Sweet Torment
by Fredrica
Summary: Darcy is inexperienced with women. He is having trouble dealing with his feelings for Miss Elizabeth Bennet. This is an interpretation of PnP, mostly written from FD's POV. There are a few surprises, but it largely fits within canon.
1. Six inches deep in mud

_Thank you to all those who have left reviews and encouragements since I started writing. Now that I have managed to navigate my way to the end, I am polishing a few things._ _Please read and review, it motivates me to keep the updates coming._

_As a supplement to the story I have collected a set of "illustrations" on **Pinterest**, as I first did for **Via Luton. **This "**Sweet Torment updates**" board is in reverse order because Pinterest dictates it must be that way: most recent pins go first. Therefore I cannot put it in the correct order until I am finished. If you have an ipad, it is worth getting the Pinterest app, as you can scroll to the end, select the first image, and then flick backwards through them to view them in order. _

__With regard to the text, I'll keep a summary of major changes here for returning readers.__

__I've expanded chapter 2 to flesh out the conversation in the dining room.__

__I started a new story arc involving Charles in chapter 5. I've added an extra scene at the beginning of 6 chapter to continue this.__

_Chapter 6 (Any savage) is completely new._

___I have subsumed the original chapter 6 (Something wicked) into chapter 7 (Dirty deeds).___

_Chapters 8 (Wet, wet, wet) expanded. Latest addition __30th Jun 2015._

_Chapter 11 (Exodus) have been expanded._

______I have subsumed the original chapter 22 (Ruminations and preparations) into chapter 21 (Kismet).______

______I've added a new scene to chapter 22 (Done like a dinner).______

______Added a new scene to the beginning of chapter 23 (Wickham redux).______

______i'm slightly rearranged chapters 37 and 38 and added a new section to chapter 38 (Double rainbow)______

_****two new chapters covering the journey to Pemberley and the wedding night have been inserted at chapters 39 and 40***_

* * *

**Chapter 1**

It all started when Fitzwilliam Darcy encountered Miss Elizabeth Bennet as she climbed over the stile into the demesne of Netherfield Park, the estate he was visiting at the behest of his friend, Charles Bingley. Darcy had admired the nimble way she'd negotiated the fence which, with its attendant patch of mud, resembled an obstacle in a steeplechase. Despite the encumbrances of her skirts, she landed neatly on her little walking boots, deftly avoiding the muck.

It was only then that Darcy realised he could see right through her skirts below her knees to her shapely calves. He stared mesmerised as she undid a loose knot in her overskirt to lower it over her mud-flecked petticoat. As he flushed scarlet, he thanked God that he was a good fifty yards away under the shade of a tree. She was unaware of his presence, and if she headed directly to the front door of Netherfield, might even pass by without noticing him.

No such luck. After wiping her boots on the longer grass before stepping onto the sward, she headed straight for him. It was at this point that he noticed that her hair was in disarray. Short strands had escaped the loose bun at the back of her neck to form a halo round her face. Her cheeks were rosy, her lips were parted, and she was panting slightly from the exertion of her walk.

To his chagrin, his mind performed some devilish calculus, recalling an embarrassing encounter that had occurred during his teenage years at Pemberley, his family's estate in Derbyshire. Heading to the stables to take his new gelding out for a ride, he'd encountered the steward's son, George Wickham, emerging from a box adjusting his breeches. At sixteen, George was a year older than Darcy.

He'd thought nothing of it until he'd led the gelding out of the adjacent box several minutes later and been confronted by the spectacle of a kitchenmaid standing in the same spot he had encountered Wickham. Flushed, and with straw in her hair, she was smoothing down her skirts.

Their eyes met, and Darcy's face quickly matched hers in hue as he realised the nature of her assignation with Wickham. She was the pretty maid he'd noticed for the first time the week prior when she brought more jam to the breakfast table...

Darcy snapped back to reality when Miss Elizabeth finally noticed him and stopped dead in her tracks.

"Mr Darcy!" she exclaimed, as her hand flew to her hair. "I beg your pardon. I must look a fright!"

There was a pregnant pause during which Darcy realised his mouth was hanging open. He snapped it shut.

She curtsied, saying, "I've come to check on my sister, Jane."

Elizabeth's sister, Jane Bennet, had been invited to dine yesterday with Bingley's sisters. Apparently, she had arrived on horseback, soaked to the skin, in the middle of a downpour. The gentlemen of the house had returned from their dinner with the officers of the militia to find the eldest Miss Bennet installed in the guest room running a fever.

Darcy bowed perfunctorily and swept his hand toward the front door.

"Ah no," she laughed, "I think I had better go in the back way and tidy up first."

And without further ado, she headed toward the back entrance, leaving him standing there rooted to the spot.


	2. Blow a cloud

_Alright, now that I have got to the end I would like to polish a few things. This is my first repost. I thought I would expand on the conversation that occurred once the ladies withdrew. _  
_Any suggestions/critiques welcome._

_I thought I also would have a little fun "casting" this story. So let's start with Jane Bennet. Susannah Harker was wonderful in the 1995 version of P &amp; P. _I particularly admired her hair, which is discussed in this chapter. B_ut imagine Joely Richardson in the role. JR was cast as Constance in the BBC's 1993 version of Lady Chatterley's Lover. Let me know your thoughts._

* * *

Darcy had intended to take a short stroll around the grounds with his hound before heading back to sifting through Netherfield's ledgers - a chore he had assumed to help his friend Charles with the management of his newly leased estate. His encounter with Miss Elizabeth Bennet had sufficiently discomposed him that he felt unable to immediately return to the study, and diverting to the stables instead, he set out on a bruising ride across the Hertfordshire countryside.

But far from cleansing his mind of its unquiet thoughts, more of them came crowding in on him as he galloped along. The play of the sunlight in the red and gold tints of Miss Elizabeth's hair seemed so far removed from the mousy brown colour he remembered from the recent assembly they had attended in the nearby market town of Meryton, whence Darcy had been alternately dragged and cajoled by Charles - determined to plunge into the local social scene.

Unfortunately, Darcy had not been in a good mood, disliking social functions in general, and provincial dances even more. He had danced only with Charles' sisters, but if that was all he had done, he could be more sanguine now. _Alas, no_. He winced as he recalled declaring Miss Elizabeth's sister, Jane Bennet, the only beautiful woman in the ballroom, and branding Miss Elizabeth herself 'only tolerable'. _How different she seemed in the light of day!_

Taking a hedge on the fly, he flushed with mortification, remembering how he had heard Mrs Bennet repeat his impolite remark to another lady over the punchbowl later in the evening. Darcy wondered at the source of Mrs Bennet's information. He had thought he had spoken quietly to Charles. _Where had he been standing in the room? _He could only remember Miss Elizabeth and her friend Charlotte Lucas being in his vicinity. _Lord, could she, herself, have heard his slighting remark?_ It was a moot point. He had quickly pegged Mrs Bennet as a resentful gossip - if she was privy to it, everyone would know. Still he hoped Miss Elizabeth had got it secondhand. Due to his foul mood, he could not hope that he had delivered the words temperately.

He'd felt the seed of a headache settle behind his brows as soon as he walked into the stuffy assembly room. It was such a crush. He always had such trouble discerning what everyone was saying in such a hubbub. His hearing was perfectly fine otherwise. He could hear the dogs crawling through the brush when they went out shooting; the flourish of feathers as the birds prepared to take flight. _What was it about ballrooms, crowded ballrooms, that always defeated him?_

_Oh, it was useless making excuses for himself!_

Darcy finally became aware of the passage of time when he noticed the sun was appreciably lower in the Hertfordshire sky. Still disquieted, he admitted defeat, and turned his horse back to Netherfield for dinner. Hopefully Miss Elizabeth had already returned to Longbourn, and he would be left to muse in peace.

He quickly changed his garments before dinner - Charles' unmarried sister, Caroline, who was acting as mistress in his friend's bachelor household, did not like the smell of the stable at her table.

But upon entering the dining room he discovered to his dismay that Miss Elizabeth, _of course!_ had been invited to stay for the meal.

"There you are, Mr Darcy! We thought that you'd ridden back to London," tittered Caroline. "Miss Eliza has decided to stay with us to tend Jane, so we have an even number of ladies and gentlemen for dinner."

Caroline had taken her place as hostess at one end of the table, with Bingley at the opposite end near his married sister, Louisa. Caroline gestured for Darcy to sit beside her, on her right.

Thus, Darcy found himself with Miss Bingley on his left and Miss Elizabeth on his right. Bingley's brother-in-law, Hurst, was directly across from him. That gentleman fell upon his soup with gusto as soon as Miss Bingley raised her spoon, and not a word passed his lips during the meal until the ladies got up to withdraw. Darcy could not think of a single sensible word to say to Miss Elizabeth, nor could he bring himself to glance in her direction. He spent all his time conversing with Miss Bingley, an honour that lady was not insensible of.

Miss Elizabeth spent a pleasant time conversing with Mr Bingley, chiefly of her sister, Jane. She could only wonder at the cold shoulder presented by Mr Darcy. She knew he disdained her as a female beneath his standards, but she thought it impolite not to make at least some attempt at conversation with one's neighbour at dinner.

Once the ladies withdrew, Bingley got up, fetched the port, and took Caroline's place at table between Hurst and Darcy. Hurst produced one of his ghastly cigars, and proceeded to puff on it - a pastime Darcy sincerely wished he would pursue on the terrace.

"I am quite worried about Miss Bennet," said Bingley. "I'm glad her sister has come to nurse her. Miss Elizabeth seems to know what she's doing."

"Wouldn't mind her nursing me," said Hurst as he rolled his tongue around the end of his cigar.

Darcy frowned, then selected another peach from the board. "These are not bad, Bingley. Where did you have them from?"

"Lady Lucas sent them, Darcy. She has succession houses."

"_Yes... Miss Elizzza_..." said Hurst, ejecting a long plume of smoke, "Plump set of peaches she's got there," he joked. "Wouldn't mind a bite."

Darcy felt the tips of his ears turn red.

Bingley settled back in his chair and stared at the flickering lights of the chandelier. "Miss Bennet is such an angel. I have never encountered a more beautiful creature. It is like I have died and gone to heaven!"

Darcy shifted in his chair.

"Did you notice her hair at the assembly?" mused Bingley, "It looked just like that Botticelli painting, you know, the one of the three graces."

"Now _there's_ some scantily clad ladies," puffed Hurst. "...would like to see Miss Eliza in such a getup."

Thus the conversation continued like a plait: Bingley waxed lyrical about Jane's heavenly appearance at the assembly; Hurst made himself further obnoxious by interspersing completely unrelated comments about Miss Elizabeth's décolletage; and Darcy desperately tried to talk of something other than women. The words wound together but never formed a coherent conversation.

Darcy was only too glad when Hurst had burnt his cigar down to a stub and they could proceed to the drawing room.


	3. I'm Sirius

Upon entering the drawing room, Darcy perceived Bingley's sisters, Louisa and Caroline, setting up the card table. As he hesitated in the doorway, Hurst pushed past him to join them. _Perhaps Miss Elizabeth had returned to her sister's side?_

The French doors were open and, heaving a sigh of relief, Darcy proceeded to the terrace for fresh air. Upon reaching the threshold, he was dismayed to perceive that Miss Elizabeth was leaning on the balcony, but his momentum did not permit a polite retreat. She turned her head back over her shoulder when she heard his footsteps and gave him a wan smile.

When Mr Hurst's damnable comments about her décolletage slid unbidden into his mind, he determinedly focused his eyes on the moonlit lawns of Netherfield. After what seemed an eon, a conversational gambit entered his head.

"Miss Elizabeth, you already seem to know your way around Netherfield," he remarked.

She looked quizzical for a moment at this apparent non-sequitur. "Oh, the back door," she laughed. "Yes, I often played here as a child when the Yardleys were still in residence."

"Ah, the owners," said Darcy in comprehension, "did they depart so long ago?"

"It's been eight years since they left for London," she replied.

"I suppose that's consistent with the degree of neglect I've encountered," mused Darcy.

"Yes, the agent isn't very active," agreed Elizabeth.

"Live-in stewards are always preferable for vacant properties," observed Darcy.

"It is hard to keep one when Mr Yardley isn't willing to spend money on the upkeep," said Elizabeth. "They get frustrated and leave."

At this point Caroline joined them on the terrace. "Have you taken up astronomy, Mr Darcy?" she joked, casting a cold eye on Miss Elizabeth. "We had hoped you would join us at cards."

"I needed some fresh air after Hurst's cigar," replied Darcy.

Caroline stepped closer and could smell the smoke on his clothes. She lay her hand on his upper arm in a conciliatory way. "I'm sorry. I'll talk to Louisa," she cooed at him.

Darcy felt uncomfortable at her proximity and proprietary manner.

Miss Bingley then turned to Elizabeth with a false smile. "Miss Eliza, perhaps I could interest you in a book?" she said as she herded Darcy and Elizabeth back inside.

Darcy was quite pleased with himself when he managed to evade the card table, encouraging Bingley to make up the quartet instead. Miss Elizabeth had already sat down in front of the fire with a volume of poetry. Darcy picked up Southey's first volume of "Life of Nelson" and sat down opposite her.

They read in silent communion for almost half an hour, with the snap of cards, and occasional accompanying exclamations from the direction of the card table, the only noise.

Darcy's book could not hold his attention. His eyes seem to slide over the words without comprehending them. At the end of each page his attention was drawn to Miss Elizabeth's face like iron attracted to a lodestone. She did not look up, but he watched a range of expressions play over her face as she read, before forcing his eyes down to the next meaningless page of the text in his hands. He knew the poet laureate, and indeed Nelson, deserved better attention than this.

Then Miss Elizabeth was up, had curtsied, and excused herself to tend to her sister.

When she had not returned half-an-hour later, Darcy excused himself also, claiming fatigue - the evening had suddenly become boring.

Upon leaving the saloon, he encountered Miss Elizabeth descending the stairs with a teapot, carrying the large reticule she had arrived with.

He stood aside to let her pass with a gracious gesture. "Miss Elizabeth, are you having trouble rousing the servants?"

"A tisane for Jane," she explained, acknowledging his gesture with a smile, but not stopping. "I prefer to prepare them myself."

Then she was off towards the kitchens without further ado, leaving Darcy to retire to his bedchamber.

Repose, however, seemed far away. After lying in the darkness for half-an-hour, he lit a candle and began to reread Nelson's biography.

He had got through the first five chapters when he heard Bingley bid Hurst good night and the door close softly across the hall.

Sometime later, as Darcy snuffed the candle, he heard Hurst's door close also. Then the headboard began to bang against the other side of the wall. Darcy put his pillow over his head.

That night he dreamt of standing on the terrace with Miss Elizabeth Bennet, explaining constellations to her. He bent down to bring himself to her eye height as he pointed out the stars. When he turned towards her, his eyes became fixed on the deep V formed by the ligaments in her slender neck. Moving closer, he stuck out his tongue and licked her from her jaw to her cheekbone.

Then he woke up in a cold sweat.


	4. Black hawk down

The following day Darcy stuck religiously to Netherfield's ledgers in the study.

He had hoped to go over some of the salient points with Bingley in the morning, but his friend was distracted by the arrival of several females of the Bennet family, ostensibly checking on the progress of Jane. During this visit, he overheard talk of Miss Bennet's recovery - Mrs Bennet's shrill voice penetrated the wood panelling remarkably well.

He'd wildly hoped that the two sisters might return to Longbourn before dinner. But alas, upon entering the dining room in the evening there _she_ was, and they sat down to the same arrangement as the previous day.

This time he tried to listen to Miss Elizabeth's childhood anecdotes of Jane at the same time as carrying on a discussion with Miss Bingley, but his wooden answers betrayed his distraction to the mistress of the house, and Caroline resolved that Netherfield could not be rid of Miss Elizabeth too quickly.

When the ladies withdrew, Mr Hurst reached for the inner pocket of his coat, scowled, and then dropped his hands to his sides. Mr Darcy suppressed a smile and was quite in charity with Miss Bingley and her sister.

During the ensuing conversation, or what passed for one, Bingley entered the second sphere of heaven with further musings on his angel. Darcy tried unsuccessfully to turn the topic to the Netherfield estate, while Mr Hurst was largely silent, possibly due to the loss of his libidinous fuel, or having been foiled in his examination of Miss Elizabeth's décolletage by the more expansive lace tucker she had sported for dinner.

After a sufficient amount of port was downed, they proceeded to the drawing room.

Mr Darcy could not bear the thought of trying to read in Miss Elizabeth's company, as he knew he could not trust himself to keep his mind on the page. Instead, he sat down at the escritoire to write to his sister Georgiana.

Upon seeing that Mr Darcy again eschewed cards, Caroline refused to participate and the card table did not form. Mr Hurst lay down on the settee, put a cushion over his head and proceeded to snore.

Caroline pursued a disjointed conversation with Miss Elizabeth interlarded with references to Cheapside, attorneys, and country manners. She occasionally called upon her sister, Louisa, who was perusing a fashion magazine, to agree with one of her comments. Having spent the day in the study outside the social circle, Darcy had no idea what was going on, but was forcibly reminded of some bizarre tennis match, where Caroline strove to serve a series of aces, which were effortlessly flicked back across the net by Miss Elizabeth. There never seemed to be a rally.

When Caroline asked for the tea to be brought in, Miss Elizabeth disappeared briefly and returned with her sister Jane on her arm.

Mr Bingley rushed to support Jane's free arm and helped lower her tenderly into the most comfortable armchair.

"Miss Bennet, how good to see you up and about!" he exclaimed once he had seen her comfortably bestowed.

"Thank you, Mr Bingley. I feel very silly to have imposed on you at all. I should have taken the carriage, but unfortunately our second horse couldn't be spared from the farm."

"Indeed, you have my deepest sympathies," commiserated Caroline. "How terrible to be limited by one's resources!"

Blithely unaware of the barb in his sister's comments, Mr Bingley continued to smile beatifically on Jane. Elizabeth began an inconsequential conversation with him, and Jane joined in when she felt she was able.

Content that she had effectively put Miss Elizabeth in her place, Caroline proceeded to prowl the room: occasionally injecting her mite into her brother's conversation; looking over her sister's shoulder at the fashions; and solicitously tending to Mr Darcy. She judged herself to be spending her time equally between these three duties, but a plot of her path upon the floor would have shown she was effectively orbiting Mr Darcy.

Darcy surreptitiously watched, slightly enviously, as Charles effortlessly conversed with the two Bennet sisters. He finished his letter to Georgiana in a desultory fashion - plagued by Miss Bingley's epistolary suggestions, offers to mend his pen, and several proffered cups of tea.

Soon after, Elizabeth could see that Jane was tiring, and she got up to assist her sister back to her room.

Darcy joined his friend Charles at the fire and attempted to read his book. Miss Bingley sat down beside them, and once the servants had cleared the room of the tea, proceeded to complain to her brother of the lazy chambermaid who had not tended the fire in her bedchamber early enough to warm the room before she rose.

Once more Darcy found it difficult to concentrate, and he initially blamed Miss Bingley's gabbling. But once he admitted to himself that visions of Miss Elizabeth kept intruding in his mind, he realised that he had inadvertently sat in the chair she had vacated and fancied he could still detect her scent.

Giving up, he slapped the covers of his book together, making Miss Bingley jump. Apologising, he suppressed a yawn, and announced his intention to retire.

Upon achieving slumber, Darcy dreamt that he was standing in a field, staring at the sky, when he perceived a kite attack a pigeon. Upon outstretching his arm, he realised it was _his_ kite, although he never indulged in falconry and did not possess such a bird. He winced when it landed on his forearm, having forgotten to wear his protective gauntlet. As its talons dug deep into his flesh, the bird grew and transformed into a Harpy with Caroline Bingley's face.

Darcy awoke in a cold sweat.


	5. Morning glory

_This is a repost. Now that I have got to the end, I am polishing a few things. I decided to add two extra scenes in the middle of this chapter. One of them mirrors the conversation between Elizabeth and Jane on the subject of marriage. Any suggestions/critiques welcome._

_Continuing "casting" this story: What about Mr Hurst? In several of the screen versions he is cast as a slothful middle-aged man, implying Louisa has married solely for money. Jane Austen says he likes cards and he talks and thinks of food quite a lot. I imagine him to be a young, rich good-for-nothing, a fribble. He dresses as a dandy, has several vices such as cigar smoking, and is boorish. Who, who, who? What about Leonardo DiCaprio? I'm thinking of the character he played in Django. Maybe not so brutish. Any better ideas?_

* * *

It was at breakfast that Darcy learned that Charles had promised the youngest Bennet sisters a ball during yesterday's visit. Caroline carped about having to exert herself for a bunch of country nobodies until Charles gently reminded his sister that it was her chance to practice as a hostess in an environment where a few mistakes would be readily forgiven.

Darcy washed his ham and eggs down with coffee and headed out for a morning ride.

He was about a mile from the house when Bingley's Irish wolfhound emerged suddenly from the long grass. His horse shied, but he had the situation well in hand.

"Skittish this morning, Bucephalus?" he murmured as he reassured his horse by gently stroking its neck. He was about to add some comment about Miss Elizabeth discomposing them both, when that lady herself emerged from a cow track, and the hound bounded to greet her.

Darcy silently thanked God that he'd held his tongue, but blushed scarlet nonetheless.

"Well, what a pleasure to meet Alexander the Great on my morning ramble!" she exclaimed.

"Miss Elizabeth, I thought you were returning to Longbourn today!" he blurted, while thinking, _How stupid of me! T__he hound is obviously walking with her and should've alerted me to her presence._

She smiled, thinking Mr Darcy was surely anxious to get rid of her, but replied equably: "Good morning, Mr Darcy. Yes, Mr Bingley has promised us his carriage at eleven - still plenty of time for a morning walk."

Darcy dismounted and walked beside her. "I was hoping to ask you some questions about the two estates."

"Fire away, Mr Darcy," she replied.

"I understand Longbourn is around one third of Netherfield's size?"

"In acreage, that's true, Mr Darcy. Longbourn has half as many cottages, but almost all of them are occupied, whereas I believe the vacancy rate at Netherfield is rather high."

"Indeed, I think that's one of the things that Bingley should pay the utmost attention to immediately," replied Darcy.

"You may find it difficult to remedy, Mr Darcy. It's not easy to keep the cottages occupied when London is so close. We work hard to keep the cottagers happy at Longbourn."

"Indeed, how do you do that?" he asked.

With a honk, some geese startled from the long grass and the wolfhound took off in pursuit.

"You can't expect me to divulge all our secrets!" she smiled; and with a sideways caper, she ran off after the dog and left him standing there tied to his horse.

As promised, the Bennets left in Bingley's carriage at eleven. Charles stood in the drive, staring disconsolately after the carriage long after the dust had settled.

* * *

Following lunch, the housekeeper, Mrs Fletcher, walked into Netherfield's guest wing to supervise the cleaning of the bedchambers following the departure of the Bennet sisters. Entering the first room, she gave a yelp and clutched her heart upon finding it occupied. Master Charles was lying fully clothed on the mattress, with his hands behind his head, and his booted feet dangling over the foot of the bed.

"Master Charles, you gave me such a start!" she exclaimed.

"Beg your pardon, Mrs Fletcher. I'm feeling a little fatigued. Would you mind coming back in a hour or so?"

Mrs Fletcher eyed him suspiciously. "Very well, sir."

"Oh, and Mrs Fletcher..."

"Yes, sir?"

"Would you mind pulling off my boots before you go?"

Having grudgingly performed this service, Mrs Fletcher walked out of the room with pursed lips. For all that the master was an amiable man, she could not approve of these young public school gents and their wild ways... Mr Hurst's sheets needed changing every day, and she was sure this was not entirely due to his marital duties. She suspected the chambermaid. Just let her catch her at it and she would be dismissed! And now, here was the master, who she had previously thought as good as gold, in Miss Jane Bennet's bed!

Returning an hour later, Mrs Fletcher was relieved to see the master had vacated the room. She sent the maid off to empty the chamber pot and began stripping the sheets from the bed. It was only when she was remaking the bed that she realised one of the pillows was missing.

* * *

That afternoon Bingley walked into the study and proceeded to pace up and down in front of Darcy.

"With five thousand a year, one would think one should be able to marry for love!" declared Bingley.

"A noble sentiment," said Darcy, not looking up from his books.

"Caroline seems determined to auction me off to the lady with the highest dowry."

"Is it not the other way round?" said Darcy.

"Ha!" ejaculated Bingley, "that is only the appearance of it!"

He paced some more.

"I have no wish to marry some bran-faced lady just because she is a well-to-do member of the Ton!"

From this, Darcy assumed Bingley was referring to Lady Diana Watford, the freckled daughter of the Earl of Blissett, who was a current favourite with Bingley's sisters.

"Good connections are always valuable when increasing one's fortune," Darcy reasoned.

"A man of fortune ought to be able to marry as he pleases!" whined Bingley. "What is the point of having money if it cannot bring you what you want?"

"No doubt Sir William Hamilton would have agreed with you," replied Darcy calmly, thinking of the first example of a gentleman who had notoriously married down that came into his head.

"Ha! I see your game," spat Bingley. "You think of the most ridiculous example to undermine me!"

"Perhaps," said Darcy, "but the case is a salutary one."

Bingley, uncharacteristically, slammed the door on his way out of the study.

* * *

Dinner was a strained affair. Bingley and Caroline, who usually were the backbone of the dinnertime conversation, were not talking. Despite the absence of the Bennets, their presence still seemed to hang in the air.

Bingley was not keen to follow the ladies after they withdrew, and he drank more port than usual. When they rejoined the Bingley sisters for a game of cards, Caroline spent the an entire rubber making disparaging remarks on Mrs Bennet's circumscribed world of four and twenty families. Darcy felt almost ready to gnaw his leg off to escape.

That evening, when Morpheus finally claimed him, Darcy dreamt of a tennis match between Caroline and Elizabeth. He had never seen women playing tennis before and wondered how it could at all be possible in stays and long skirts. It was at this point that he noticed that the ladies were only wearing chemises. He watched in fascination as Miss Bennet's pert breasts did a jig as she lobbed the ball back over the net. He then watched with some trepidation as Caroline returned the ball, but she seemed to be all sinew.

_Perhaps she **was** wearing a corset after all..._ he thought, as he woke feeling rather hot and kicked off the sheets.

_Well, tennis matches are infinitely preferable to nightmares about Harpies,_ he reasoned.

Darcy wondered if he was beginning to enjoy these dreams.


	6. Any savage

_Now that I have got to the end, I am polishing a few things. This is a completely new chapter. I've added an extra scene at the beginning of this chapter to continue a story arc I started in chapter 5. The second part of this chapter occurs in chapter 6 of PnP ie before Jane stays at Netherfield, but has been rescheduled here._

_Continuing "casting" this story: Mary. What did Jane Austen originally intend for Mary? Perhaps the three younger sisters were intended as contrasts to the two older more sensible and beautiful sisters: Mary was the overly staid sister; Lydia was the overly frivolous sister; and Kitty was a "nothing": she had no character. Like three corners of a triangle. But their characters are not yet fixed. All three younger sisters are still young and have potential._

_I objected to Mary being portrayed as an antidote in the 1995 version of PnP. Nor do I think that any girl who picks up a book of sermons will necessarily be wearing glasses (1980 &amp; 1995). Perhaps they erred too much on the side of beauty in 2005, but it was nice to see the character rethought. Here I was thinking of Tessa Peake-Jones who played Mary in the 1980 version of p&amp;p, but sans the glasses. Any better ideas?_

* * *

On Monday, Netherfield was galvanised by preparations for the coming ball. Caroline was determined to show the locals just how things should be done. Nonetheless, she was still angry with Charles for putting her to the trouble in the first place, and was determined to pay him back.

When she had been up for over an hour choosing the cards for the invitations, she became piqued that Charles had still not come down to breakfast, and she determined to flush him from his bed and set him to work. With a peremptory knock, she marched into Charles' chamber to rouse him to action, only to find her little brother still abed, cuddling a pillow.

In repose, he looked quite angelic with his golden hair resting on the snowy linen. A beatific smile lit his face.

Caroline gave him a push. His eyelids fluttered open.

"Did you leave your teddy at home, Charles?" she asked sarcastically.

"Yes," he smiled pleasantly in return, "so I've had to make do."

"Balls don't organise themselves, Charles. I need you downstairs."

After his sister had left, Charles got up, kissed the pillow and stuffed it into an armoire, before calling his valet.

* * *

On Monday evening, the Netherfield party attended a soirée held at Lucas Lodge to welcome the militia to Meryton. After Charles handed his sisters into the carriage, he set off with Darcy to ride to the soirée.

"No doubt we will be importuned by second class officers, Louisa," said Caroline as they sat in the swaying carriage next to a sleeping Mr Hurst.

"No doubt," agreed Louisa, raising her eyebrows disdainfully, but hiding a smile behind her fan.

At Lucas Lodge, three young officers Denny, Sanderson and Chamberlayne had posted themselves in a strategic alcove where they could observe the ladies as they arrived. Denny and Sanderson, who were both 18, had decided to give the newly-joined Chamberlayne, who was 15, an education.

They had already met the Bennet sisters in town, and Miss Lydia had promised them lots of fun at the soirée, but it was the Netherfield party who arrived first. The gentlemen were overcome by the fine clothes of the Bingley sisters, and in particular, the daring décolletage of the younger.

After requesting an introduction from Sir William Lucas, Mr Denny stepped forward. "Miss Bingley, what a pleasure to meet you," he said kissing her hand. "I believe I know a poem dedicated to Caroline."

"Oh?" said Caroline giving him the minutest of smiles.

"Yes," whispered Mr Denny still grasping her hand,

_"Think'st thou I saw thy beauteous eyes,_

_When thy sweet lips were join'd to mine;"_

Annoyed by his impertinence, Caroline could not help showing her claws:- "Please don't misquote poetry by Harovian cripples, Mr Denny," she said sweetly, whereupon she retrieved her hand, flourished her fan, and walked off in a stately fashion. She felt quite clever giving him a set-down by casting this slur upon Byron - her brother Charles had, of course, gone to Eton.

Mr Chamberlayne was amused at the outcome of his first lesson in lovemaking but was wise enough not to show it.

The arrival of the Bennet sisters was heralded by Lydia who burst noisily through the door, causing Mr Darcy to wince. She was followed closely by a giggling Kitty.

"Here's some fun," said Denny, and the three young officers stepped forward to greet the three younger Bennet sisters.

Mr Bingley made a beeline for the two elder sisters, leaving Darcy standing near the mantelpiece. Darcy frowned disapprovingly as he followed his friend's progress towards Miss Jane Bennet. But upon Bingley's arrival at the group, Darcy's eyes slid automatically to the younger sister. With pursed lips he surveyed her slightly dowdy dress of sprigged muslin which was definitely not fine enough for an evening engagement.

Charlotte Lucas joined the group. "I am going to open the instrument Eliza and you know what follows."

"Oh Charlotte, you are a very strange creature by way of a friend!—always wanting me to play and sing before anybody and everybody! If my vanity had taken a musical turn, you would have been invaluable; but as it is, I would really rather not sit down before those who must be in the habit of hearing the very best performers."

"Oh come, come, Lizzy," retorted Charlotte. "Will you sing if I play?"

"If you must expose us both to censure, then lead on."

Charlotte was well satisfied. She played tolerably, but knew Lizzy's singing to be superlative. She saw her father nod approvingly as they moved towards the instrument.

Then the music started up and Miss Elizabeth's voice rang out clear as a bell. As Darcy stood there, it seemed that her notes reached out, wrapped tendrils round his heart and gripped it. He had never been so physically affected by music before. _Was he breathing?_

The song seemed to last an eternity, but scattered applause finally decreed its end. Freed from the ensorcellment of her song, Darcy wanted to pace, but he knew this was not acceptable behaviour in a social setting. Instead, he meandered round the room whilst Sir William Lucas watched him thoughtfully.

Mary Bennet then proceeded to regale the company with her musical accomplishments. All the Bennet sisters were well looking, but Mary favoured her father more than the others. Having the cup least full, she felt obliged to overcompensate. She'd cut her hair short in the latest fashion, a style that did not suit her more rounded face, and she practiced her music feverishly. She could play better than any of her sisters, and sing better than most of them. But she wasn't able to do the two well together, always singing slightly flat when she accompanied herself.

She had completed two Scottish airs when Lydia rushed up to her. "Give us a jig Mary, we would like to dance!"

Mary was slightly annoyed at having to abandon her airs, but acquiesced grudgingly.

A group consisting of the young officers, the two younger Bennet sisters, and Miss Mariah Lucas formed in the end of the room to dance. Part way through the set, Jane and Bingley joined them.

As the first piece ended, Sir William managed to intercept Mr Darcy in his meanderings.

"What a charming amusement for young people this is, Mr Darcy! There is nothing like dancing after all. I consider it as one of the first refinements of polished society."

Darcy sought to hide his agitation with a cutting remark:- "Certainly, sir; and it has the advantage also of being in vogue amongst the less polished societies of the world. Every savage can dance."

At this point Miss Elizabeth passed before them and Sir William snared her gloved hand.

"Mr Darcy, will you not partake of the entertainment? You must allow me to present Miss Elizabeth to you as a very desirable partner," he said as he offered her captured wrist.

Elizabeth blanched, recalling Mr Darcy's snub at the assembly. "Indeed, sir, I have not the least intention of dancing. I entreat you not to suppose that I moved this way in order to beg for a partner."

Mr Darcy grasped her hand and stared at her with pursed lips and shining eyes.

She freed her hand with a jerk and hid it behind her back. "I am sure that Mr Darcy does not wish to dance, Sir William. Perhaps you and I can take a turn on the dance floor?"

Mr Darcy made no demur.

"Well," said Sir William, quite gratified; "Age before beauty, then, Mr Darcy?"

The two gentleman exchanged a bow, then Mr Darcy watched quite enviously as Sir William and Miss Elizabeth performed a spirited jig. Miss Elizabeth's dress was quite demure despite the absence of a lace tucker, but Darcy's eyes were still drawn to her bosom which bounced sedately within the confines of her stays. He had begun to wonder if his dreams were somehow prescient when he felt a hand curl round his arm at the elbow.

"I can guess the subject of your reverie," whispered Miss Bingley in his ear.

"I should imagine not," replied Darcy with a twist of his lips.

"You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many evenings in this manner—in such society; and indeed I am quite of your opinion."

"Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you," said Mr Darcy, "My mind was more agreeably engaged."

But with what he would say no more.

* * *

That night Darcy dreamt he was dancing a quadrille with Miss Elizabeth. Upon reaching for her hand after the turn he found that her glove had disappeared, exposing her bare flesh. When he touched her hand, a jolt ran up his arm.

They separated and turned again, but when he reached for her hand once more, she was gone, and he found himself standing alone in a ballroom.


	7. Dirty deeds

_This is a repost. I have clubbed chapters 6 (something wicked) and 7 (dirty deeds) of the first draft together to form the new chapter. I've used the second title "Dirty Deeds" because any chapter mentioning Mr Wickham seems to send readers scurrying for the next one. Do not worry! His bad karma will eventually catch up with him.  
Any suggestions/critiques welcome._

_Continuing "casting" this story: What about Mr Wickham? To be perfectly honest I don't think any of the actors who have played Mr Wickham to date have managed to encapsulate the character. Of course he's a very difficult character to play. I imagine him to be more handsome than Darcy, although not as tall. He has to be smooth enough to fool Miss Elizabeth Bennet... My choice to play the character? Have a look at Laurence Olivier playing Darcy in the 1940 film version and imagine he is Wickham. He really knows how to palaver... Any better ideas?_

* * *

On Tuesday, having endured all manner of ball organisational trivia over breakfast, Darcy finally managed to collar Charles and attempted to pull him into the study.

"Darcy," Charles protested, "I'm busy helping Caroline with this ball."

"If we don't look at these damned ledgers you won't be able to _afford_ a ball, Bingley. I didn't come here to be your steward, man. Are we going over these ledgers or not?"

Charles bit down on a smile and shuffled sheepishly into the study. Several hours later he escaped, having learned more about drainage ditches than he ever wanted to know.

By the afternoon, Darcy could stand the confines of the study no longer and determined to ask Charles for his company on a long ride. Upon reaching the public rooms he found that Caroline had every maid stitching lengths of muslin together, while footmen rearranged furniture. Charles was standing on a ladder next to a hunting trophy. When Darcy suggested they go out for a ride, Caroline insisted that she needed more thread, so the gentlemen compromised by riding to Meryton.

Bucephalus was very fresh after having been stabled so long. After cantering the mile to Meryton, he was still in high spirits, and when Darcy slowed upon entering the main street, the horse began sidestepping and cavorting in protest at the reduced pace. As they proceeded to the haberdasher's, they encountered the Bennet sisters conversing with a group of gentlemen, several of them officers wearing redcoats.

Bingley made a beeline for his angel who had turned to smile and wave at him. Darcy followed more slowly, scrutinizing the gentleman as he neared: one was a very tall, but slightly stooped parson, whom he had never met; while Darcy recognized one of the officers as Captain Denny. Beside the captain, with his back to Darcy, was a well-dressed gentleman, partly obscured by the other officers. He had a dandified air and was speaking directly to Miss Elizabeth. As Darcy approached, Miss Elizabeth glanced over the man's shoulder and nodded at Darcy in greeting, just as Darcy felt the hair on his neck immediately stand on end as the man's profile came in view.

_It was Wickham! Here in Meryton!_ Distantly Darcy heard Denny making the introductions, drowned out by the sound of blood pumping through his ears. He unconsciously gripped the reins too tightly, causing Bucephalus to rear and plunge in response.

Darcy kept his seat easily, used to the antics of high bred stallions. But, disgusted to find his nemesis thrust once more into his social sphere, he shortened his left rein, turned Bucephalus on the spot and spurred the horse back towards Netherfield.

"Good Lord, what's wrong with Mr Darcy?" exclaimed Lydia.

With a nonchalant glance at his friend's back, Bingley dismounted, declared that Darcy's horse was way too high-spirited, and proffering his arm to his angel, suggested a stroll to the haberdasher's.

Only Elizabeth had parsed the entire interaction: the fury on Mr Darcy's face; the slight flinch on the part of Mr Wickham. She could only wonder at their reactions.

Darcy galloped for several miles before he felt his horse steady beneath him, but he was a long way from regaining his own equanimity. He began to mentally kick himself for his over-reaction.

_It was stupid of me to have betrayed myself thus, both to Wickham and Miss Elizabeth, _he thought ruefully.

* * *

Darcy slept little that night. He lay on his back mulling over the incident that had bred the bulk of his more recent nightmares; the incident that had almost cost his little sister her future. He replayed the whole Ramsgate debacle, trying to discern just exactly where he'd gone wrong.

Wickham, the son of Pemberley's former steward, had grown up on the Darcy's Derbyshire estate. Old Mr Wickham had been an employee so esteemed by Darcy's own father, George Darcy, that he had agreed to stand as his godfather to the boy, but this had encouraged young Wickham to view the Darcy family as his ticket to the easy life. Continuing his life of misdeeds, Wickham had almost managed to elope with Darcy's little sister, Georgiana. Darcy's chance arrival at the seaside resort of Ramsgate to visit his sister had narrowly averted the disaster.

After the elder Mr Wickham's premature death, Darcy's father had tried to provide for his godson by reserving a valuable living for him. But after George Darcy's own death, Wickham had rejected the proposed career in the church; and asked for a payment in lieu from Darcy to study law. This money Wickham had squandered without gaining a qualification. He had instead spent his time gambling, and pursuing heiresses and rich widows. These schemes had met with little success, and his subsequent attempt to secure Georgiana's dowry and a lifelong mandate to siphon the Darcy coffers through marriage, had been the last straw for Darcy.

But of course, Darcy's problems with Wickham predated his father's death. Wickham had been successfully undermining Darcy's relationship with his own father for years.

By dawn, Darcy had traced the thread back to that same old incident with Wickham and the maid in the stable: the moment when Wickham had become a thorn in his side. What if he'd done something then? What _could_ he have done then?

Darcy had thought nothing more of that maid until he had encountered her, around two months later, taking water from the well back to the kitchen. He'd just come back from a morning ride and the frost was still on the ground. She was carrying two pails with a heavy yoke when she slipped and sat down quickly on her backside. It knocked the breath out of her, tho' she didn't make a sound.

When he raced to assist her, he noticed her complexion was pasty and two unshed tears were beaded in her eyes. He'd laid his riding crop on the grass to lift the yoke, noticing that she'd hardly spilt a drop, she'd sat down so neatly.

After the maid got up, she dry retched a couple of times.

Darcy had carried the water to the kitchen and set the buckets down just inside the door. The maid had bid him thanks in the tiniest voice, and he nodded, not knowing what to say.

When he retrieved his riding crop, he glanced up at the house and saw his father staring down at him from the breakfast room.

A week later he was ushered into his father's study by a footman.

As the door closed, his father stood staring at him, the strangest expression on his face.

"Fitzwilliam, I don't know when I have been more disappointed," his father said in a terse voice. "Have I not made it clear that the staff are off limits?"

Darcy had stared at his father, uncomprehending.

George Darcy advanced from behind his desk holding his riding crop. "Drop your breeches."

"What?!" he'd blurted at his father.

George Darcy had exploded then. He'd grabbed Fitzwilliam by the collar, hauled his breeches down, and laid into him in such a fashion that he was unable to sit for a week. He hadn't struggled - one didn't brawl with one's father; and he was so mortified he was unable to say a word. It was the one and only time his father had ever hit him.

Afterwards he pulled up his breeches and scuttled from the room, gasping and hiccuping for breath.

Later he discovered that his father had interviewed George first, and whatever that rogue had said had been sufficient to lay the blame elsewhere. Perhaps that interview and the water incident had been enough to seal Darcy's fate.

Over the years the thorn that was Wickham had festered, occasionally releasing more pus. His continuing troubles with Wickham, Darcy reasoned, all boiled down to a lack of disclosure. His father had never understood Wickham's duplicitous nature. George had directed his charm very effectively towards him, hardly bothering to waste any energy on fooling Darcy, a boy two years younger than himself. For Darcy, who was powerless, he had only contempt.

After Darcy's father died, he, the one who was wise to Wickham, had inherited the power. Thus, in a reasonable world, George's game would have been up. But no, slippery George had merely bypassed the new Master of Pemberley, and preyed on his sister. It had not occurred to Darcy to warn Georgiana against Wickham. Darcy had viewed her as a child. The fact that Wickham, who was older than himself, would take advantage of a girl who was still in the schoolroom was so perfidious, it had never occurred to Darcy.

_There it was again, lack of disclosure._

It was impossible to keep ahead of George's next misdeed. His acts continued to surprise and appall Darcy. But just how did one go about exposing someone like Wickham? Someone who was willing to stoop so low, but oozed charm. Brand the word CAD on his forehead?

And now he was back again for another bite of the cherry, another kick for Fitzwilliam Darcy, and it looked like he had Miss Elizabeth Bennet in his sights.


	8. Wet, wet, wet

On Wednesday, discord reigned over Netherfield's breakfast table as Caroline and Charles argued over the dance programme for the ball: Charles wanted to waltz with his angel; Caroline was determined he would not. Darcy single-mindedly sipped his tea.

"Dammit Caroline, they even waltz at Almack's these days."

"We're in the country Charles. We do not wish to offend our neighbours with a scandalous dance."

Excusing himself from the table, Darcy took himself off to Netherfield's study to look at the crop yields over the past ten years. He passed the rest of the day in semi-seclusion, emerging only for meals during which he doggedly avoided being drawn into any discussion of dancing.

At first, they maintained a distance of strict propriety, dancing the steps of a quadrille with another ghostly couple who paled into insignificance. Suddenly the music changed, and with a fright that made him feel that he had suddenly encountered a precipice, Darcy realised the band had struck up a waltz. He had looked at Miss Elizabeth uncertainly, wondering if she danced the waltz or if perhaps he should offer to escort her off the dance floor. But she had smiled at him and taking his left hand in the distinctive grasp, rested her left hand on his arm. When they began to twirl on the dance floor with the other couples, he gradually managed to pull her closer, discovering she fitted neatly under his chin.

* * *

On Thursday, the Bingleys went to Longbourn to tender a personal invitation to the Bennets to the ball. This satisfied Charles because he got to see his angel. It satisfied Caroline because it gave the Bennets less time to prepare: the other cards of invitation had gone out on Tuesday.

Darcy declined to accompany them, determined to avoid further unnecessary contact with Miss Elizabeth. After begging off, ostensibly to deal with correspondence from his steward at Pemberley, Darcy sat listlessly at his desk for an hour, but unable to concentrate, he decided to go riding.

Crossing the nearby River Lea at a bridge, Darcy followed the riverbank for sometime before he realised he was unconsciously heading in the direction of Longbourn, whereupon he began to search for a means to recross the stream and backtrack. The day was unusually warm, and he could feel his cravat was soaked at the back of his neck.

Finally, discerning a causeway, he noticed some children fishing in the brook when he cantered down the bank, but he was up the gully on the other side before he realised that Miss Elizabeth and her friend _Charmaine?_ were standing with the children in the creek.

After the horse and rider galloped through the causeway, the two startled ladies looked at each other as the dust settled over them.

"Lizzy, was that Mr Darcy?" asked Charlotte.

"Yes," said Lizzy, squelching her toes in the mud; "_hopefully_ he didn't see us."

On the other side of the causeway, Darcy unconsciously reined in to a slow trot. Did he imagine it, or had Miss Elizabeth taken off her shoes to wade in the water?

He hastened back to Netherfield.

* * *

That night he dreamt of riding through the causeway again. When Miss Elizabeth waved a cheery hello, he dismounted, took off his boots, and joined her in the brook.

After playfully flicking a little water at her, she assaulted him with a barrage of splashes. He responded by lunging at her, catching her by the waist, and tipping her off balance. They landed in the drink with a satisfying splash, and he rolled to bring her on top of him. She looked decidedly alluring as a drop of water dripped from her fringe onto his cheek.

Fortunately, by this stage the children had magically disappeared...

* * *

On Friday it began raining, and the dismal prospect outside his window crept into Darcy's heart when he received a melancholy letter from Georgiana. His sixteen year old sister seemed no closer to regaining her spirits then she was three months ago, immediately after her nearly disastrous trip to Ramsgate, when Darcy had foiled Wickham's attempt to elope with her, more by good luck than good management.

Georgie's missive so sapped his energy he was unable to work effectively fo r the rest of the day and answering it was out of the question.

That night he dreamt he was running through a field with Georgiana, both of them soaked to the skin. Someone was chasing them, and when he woke in a cold sweat, he knew it had been Wickham.

But Saturday was a new day, and Darcy determinedly wrote to Georgiana asking if she'd liked the new pianoforte he had purchased; and whether she had learned any new pieces. He also wrote to her new companion Mrs Annesley, urging her to seek diversions for his sister.

Nonetheless, his ire towards Wickham steadily rose throughout the day. Darcy would have dearly liked to take his gun out to shoot some birds to vent his anger.

That night Darcy dreamt he was fighting Wickham at night in a thunderstorm. After slugging it out in the darkness, slipping and sliding in the mud, he managed to pin the rogue to the ground, only to find he was holding Wickham's empty shirt.

* * *

On Sunday, it was raining too heavily to attend church. Darcy decided he needed a bath. This involved considerable rigamarole at Netherfield. Although one of the new copper baths had been installed, no one had thought very carefully about its use: the guest wing where Darcy was staying was not disposed conveniently with respect to the kitchen or the stairs, and every footman in the house had to be drafted to haul water.

Afterwards, feeling cleansed, Darcy sat down and picked up his bible. It opened, near the middle, to Song of Solomon, and he began to read:

..._Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine..._

_Thy cheeks are comely with rows of jewels, thy neck with chains of gold..._

_A bundle of myrrh is my well-beloved unto me; he shall lie all night betwixt my breasts..._

_Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves' eyes..._

_ Ha!_ he thought, letting the holy book fall forgotten into his lap; _H__er eyes were definitely not those of doves!_

When he realised that his thoughts had strayed from the text, he decided to study less dangerous parts of the bible and turned to the Book of Revelation instead.

At tea, he discovered the rest of the Netherfield party had been spending their wet Sunday playing cards. He could not feel this was right.

After the tea things were cleared away, Caroline dragged him to the ballroom, which had been transformed with pink and green muslin, hanging on the walls and tented round the chandeliers. Several artists were crouched on the floor chalking a matching design to lighten and decorate the dark hardwood, and allow the dancers to slide more easily. Caroline had hired them, she pronounced proudly, all the way from London.

Darcy was impressed, but keen to escape her grasp, he fled back to the study.

That night Darcy dreamt that Netherfield's ballroom flooded while they were dancing. The water swirled over the chalk designs, transforming them into a coloured wash; then rose higher, lapping at his ankles and then his knees.

He climbed atop a table and pulled Georgiana to safety behind him. From this refuge, he turned to speak to his sister, only to discover that he was holding Miss Elizabeth's hand. She was clad in a very wet and clinging chemise.

* * *

By morning tea on Monday, Darcy was feeling slightly less fraught, believing he had finally managed to expunge his mind of Miss Elizabeth with mathematics. He was humming as he calculated sums from Netherfield's ledgers when Caroline brought his tea to the study.

Miss Bingley however was not so sanguine - she was annoyed to recognise the air Miss Elizabeth had sung at the Lucas's soirée.

That night Darcy dreamt he was woken by the most beautiful female voice lifted in song. He sat up and found himself alone in a rowboat in the middle of a flat ocean.

He had only just noted with disappointment that the voice had ceased when, with a splash, Miss Elizabeth appeared near the oarlocks, her long tresses dripping onto her bare arms.

"Miss Elizabeth!" he cried as he tried to pull her aboard.

She slipped from his grasp laughing, "Mr Darcy, mermaids belong in the ocean! You are supposed to come with me!"

And she slid back into the water, disappearing with a flick of her tail.

* * *

On Tuesday, the rain finally stopped, and the clouds magically parted, as if in preparation for the ball. Surely it was a good omen.

Darcy sighed in relief, hoping to banish his ensorcellment by Miss Elizabeth along with the wet weather.


	9. Ready, Set

At Longbourn, the Bennets had been feverishly preparing for the ball since receiving their invitation. They were somewhat hampered by the persistent rain - even the shoe roses had to be got by proxy. However Longbourn's footman did not mind being sent to Meryton in the wet. He dawdled for half an hour at the pub with the barmaid, who drew him a tankard of ale on the sly.

After the debacle of being labelled 'only tolerable' at the Meryton Assembly, Elizabeth was determined to make herself look more presentable for the Netherfield Ball. For the assembly, she had spent hours twining Jane's hair into an elaborate renaissance style while their maid, Sarah, attended her mother and sisters. It was all part of the grand plan to find an eligible match for Jane, so that she could help bring up Jane's children as Aunt Lizzy. But her good deed for he sister had been rewarded with Mr Darcy's slight, and Lizzy's pride - Mary would have called it vanity, could not abide with 'only tolerable'.

Jane had already garnered Mr Bingley's interest, so this time Jane and Elizabeth spent equal amounts of time doing each other's hair. Once again, Jane looked like an angel in the candlelight and Elizabeth, also, was looking quite well. It was true the artificial light did not flatter Elizabeth's hair, but Jane had done it up in a most charming style with a number of pearl-tipped pins. They were not real pearls, but the less expensive faux pearls that had recently become available. In addition, Elizabeth was wearing her grandmother's real pearl drops which her sister had fastened to her ears with silk thread, while Jane was wearing the matching necklace.

Both sisters had taken their dresses up a notch from the Meryton Assembly. Jane was wearing the same empire line dress which she had furbished up with a new silk sash that matched her cornflower blue eyes. Lizzy had enhanced the plain, but flattering, dress she had worn to the assembly with a embroidered net overdress, made from material that had come from Uncle Gardiner's warehouse. She had worn the complete ensemble once before at the theatre in London, but deemed it too fine for a public assembly - the overdress would have been destroyed if someone had stood on it during a jig; but she felt ready to risk it during the more refined dances of the Netherfield Ball.

Elizabeth looked at herself in the mirror and was pleased with the effect._ Who knew? Perhaps I could even contemplate marriage with an amiable gentlemen like Lieutenant Wickham..._

In an adjoining bedchamber, the younger sisters were making use of Sarah's services while Mrs Bennet looked on, giving advice. There had been much scampering back-and-forth, borrowing things from their older sisters - another hairbrush, a pink ribbon, more pins.

Mrs Bennet was finally satisfied with the result. Her youngest daughter, Lydia, was looking exceptionally pretty in her refurbished gown, reminding Mrs Bennet of her younger self, back in the days when she drew Mr Bennet's eye! How Lydia had grown in the last year! Indeed her bust seemed to be almost escaping her stays, but some lace had provided the necessary decorum. And Kitty, too, was looking quite pretty. Mary's dress was fine, although it would equally have been suited to church, but there would be plenty of time to work on _her_ once her elder sisters were married.

Their happiness would have been complete were it not for the presence of their odious cousin, who had chosen now, of all times, to introduce himself to the family by visiting. Mr Collins was a cousin of Mr Bennet's, and as their nearest male relation, was set to inherit the entailed property of Longbourn.

He was, in fact, the parson who had been present when Darcy encountered Wickham in Meryton.

Their father had announced they would soon be making their cousin's acquaintance shortly before he arrived a week ago, much to their mother's consternation. She had immediately declared her intention of snubbing him, but after a hastily convened conference in Mr Bennet's library, she had emphasised the importance of being civil, nay, _welcoming_ to Mr Collins - their future might depend on it.

Mr Collins was on a mission from Kent, sent thither by his patroness the Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Lady Catherine had grown rather alarmed by his clumsy attempts to court the younger members of his flock, even paying fulsome compliments to girls who were not even out after Sunday services. Being acquainted with the particulars of her parson's inheritance, the grand lady had sent him forth to Hertfordshire to find himself a bride from a less disinterested cohort, sure that one of his cousins would welcome a roof over her head in the future.

After dressing himself for the ball, Mr Collins retreated hastily downstairs, as if from a war zone, after encountering Lydia twice in her petticoats in the upstairs hall.

The longcase clock in the vestibule had already struck six when Mrs Bennet finally declared the younger sisters ready. All the girls poured down the staircase like a stream, followed by their slightly less nimble mother. Mr Bennet and Mr Collins stood at the foot at the foot of the stairs.

"Ladies!" Mr Collins effused, looking particularly at Miss Elizabeth; "May I say how well you are all looking tonight!"

With a slight scowl, Mr Bennet returned his pocket watch to his waistcoat. "Very well then, off we go!"

* * *

At Netherfield, Caroline eyed her reflection in the mirror with satisfaction. Her French maid had dressed her strawberry blonde tresses à la gorgonne. Her elaborate toilette would not have looked out of place in a Viennese salon.

When Miss Bingley descended in state to the foyer to greet her guests, she found her sister, Louisa and her husband, Mr Hurst, ready to form the receiving line. Hurst, she noted, had a rapacious look in his eye: he had made quite a killing in the card room at the Meryton Assembly, and no doubt intended to bleed the provincials of a little more of their hard-earned blunt. Her little brother, Charles, was busy adjusting his cravat in a mirror, but skittered into place upon perceiving her glare in reflection. Darcy was nowhere to be seen. She knew that he hated receiving lines, but was punctilious to a fault. He could be relied upon to appear at the appropriate time.

Upstairs, Darcy had been pacing back and forth in the sitting room which gave a good view of the front of the house. Finally the Bennet carriage arrived. An improbable number of ladies disgorged from the coach while Mr Bennet and another gentleman climbed down from next the coachman on the box. Mr Darcy recognised the parson he had encountered in Meryton.

Despite himself, Darcy smiled. _The twelve dancing princesses, or at least half their number, if you counted Mrs Bennet, who at forty, he had to admit, was still not looking too bad. _Miss Elizabeth was recognisable by her proximity to Bingley's Junoesque angel.

He waited at the top of the stairs until the Bennets had safely passed the receiving line, then descended to join the house party in the foyer. Miss Bingley was sporting a very daring court dress, low-cut, and without sleeves. Darcy's eyes were drawn to her arms. They were thin but the flesh was perfectly well rounded, not sinewy at all...

"Mr Darcy," Caroline smiled, not missing the trajectory of his eyes; "I believe we are engaged for the first dance?" she twinkled, tucking her hand under his arm.


	10. Superball

The band struck up the music for the first dance as the hosts walked into the ballroom. Caroline and Mr Darcy took their place at the head of the line, with Bingley and his angel behind them. Lizzy pulled Mr Collins as far down the line as she could manage. He then proceeded to completely mortify her by his wild and clumsy movements. _Perhaps, _she thought_, this overdress will not survive the night after all..._

Once the first set broke up, both Lizzy and Darcy escaped the ballroom to search the other public rooms. Unbeknownst to each other they performed an interesting contradance. She circled in one direction looking for Lieutenant Wickham, while he circled in the opposite direction.

Darcy's initial plan had been to escape the dance floor, but after wandering for some moments he realised he was looking for _her_.

Finally Elizabeth spotted Charlotte.

"So you survived your dance with Mr Collins?" smiled Charlotte.

"Oh, that great galoote! I thought for sure he would tread on my overdress."

"Introduce me and I'll keep him occupied for you," laughed Charlotte.

"Gladly, have you seen Lieutenant Wickham?" asked Elizabeth, still searching the room for him with her eyes.

"Denny says he's gone to London, some folderol about business there..." replied Charlotte, rolling her eyes.

Not far away, Darcy continued his meandering. He had convinced himself that he would be satisfied with only a glimpse of Miss Elizabeth. But once he spotted her talking to her friend, Charmaine?, he felt drawn towards her as if pulled by a rope attached to his navel.

As he reached his destination, he tore his eyes away from her the back of her delicate neck and stepped round her to address her face. "Miss Elizabeth, might I have the pleasure of this dance?"

Startled, Elizabeth looked up. She hadn't expected to be importuned by Mr Darcy, and she certainly was not in charity with him after learning of Lieutenant Wickham's absence. The amiable lieutenant's revelation of Mr Darcy's perfidy in depriving him of his living had aroused her righteous indignation She pouted, trying to think of a polite way to decline.

Darcy, meanwhile, stared at her plump lower lip.

"I, eh.." she extemporized. _Trapped dammit! _"Of course, Mr Darcy," she curtsied.

He led her to the forming set. _What dainty hands she has! _he thought.

For her part, Elizabeth's heart as thumping, indignant she had been accosted. _What gigantic hands he has, and they're as hot as curling irons!_

As they danced, he became aware that his nostrils flared every time she came close. Soon he was fixated by the pearl drop dangling from her ear. He had the most bizarre urge to draw it into his mouth, right up to her earlobe...

"Well Mr Darcy, what shall we talk of?" Elizabeth asked.

"Talk?" replied Darcy vaguely, "I thought we were dancing..."

"Many people can do two things at the same time, Mr Darcy," she retorted.

Darcy dragged himself back to reality. "I beg your pardon Miss Elizabeth, I believe we were last speaking of estate management."

"Mr Darcy," explained Elizabeth patiently; "I cannot talk of estate management in a ballroom."

Silence ensued, during which time he was again seized with the bizarre urge to lick her. He felt his hand tremble slightly and hoped she hadn't noticed it. "Could you tell me more of the owners of Netherfield?"

"The Yardleys? Very well, there were two children: Marcus, who was the same age as Jane; and Clarissa who is my age. Their mother died in childbed when I was ten. The four of us became very close friends after. They were forever at Longbourn, tho' Jane and I visited Netherfield too. But they left when their father remarried and never returned. Mr Yardley's new wife was adamant she would not live in the country, and they remained thereafter in London."

"I'm surprised Mr Yardley has so neglected his estate. It is only twenty miles of good road to London."

"He did not at first, though his gout prevented him visiting as often as he would have liked."

"I presume the estate is a substantial portion of his income. He neglects it to his own detriment."

"He stopped visiting the estate when his son died. He was killed in a carriage accident and his father never recovered from the loss."

"Did he have no other sons?"

"None, his second marriage is childless."

"It sounds a very sad story."

"Indeed. We hope another family will buy Netherfield and bring it back to its former glory: a family who will be happy to be settled in the country."

Silence between them once again reigned, and the set finished shortly after.

Darcy would have guided Elizabeth to the punchbowl, but Caroline appeared at his elbow, and Elizabeth took the opportunity to curtesy and make her escape.

"Mr Darcy," Caroline whispered a little too close to his ear.

Darcy shivered.

"You must help me with Charles," she continued. "He is making a cake of himself."

"How so?"

"He has already danced with Jane Bennet twice, and her mother is saying the most outrageous things about a match between them in the supper room!"

"What do you expect me to do?" asked Darcy. "Lock him in the cellar?"

Darcy found Bingley and his angel near the punchbowl and extracted that gentleman in the only polite way he could devise: by seeking Jane's hand for the next dance. He found this quite a trial. She really was quite beautiful but he felt totally unmoved by it. She bestowed one of her beatific smiles on him.

_Your angel is quite faithless Bingley, _he thought.


	11. Exodus

Caroline was triumphant. The ball at Netherfield had come off without a hitch and everyone had complimented her on the magic she had wrought on Netherfield. The ballroom was in the older wing of the house and had obviously been reincarnated from the great hall of the original Tudor mansion. Despite the beautiful chandeliers that had been installed by the Yardleys many years ago, the room, with its wood panelling, had remained dark and oppressive. Caroline had transformed it with miles of muslin and mirrors. Alternating panels of green and coral fabric had been draped along the walls and tented around the chandeliers, perfectly matching the colour scheme of the more modern adjoining public rooms. A Venetian mirror was hung on each panel of muslin like a lozenge. Caroline had cleverly used the fixtures for the hunting trophies, which had been borne off elsewhere by several footmen. The best musicians from London were hired. Caroline had sub-contracted the menu to Louisa and she had no cause to repine there. White soup, cold meats and cheese served on dainty pastries, and fresh fruit were accompanied by an excellent champagne punch. The compliments and felicitations had rolled in all night. No doubt Meryton would be talking of it for weeks. But, most importantly, Darcy had been very impressed.

Caroline's other plans were also on track. She had contrived to get Charles summoned to London on urgent business, and convinced Darcy they all should follow her brother back to the city. Sweet as Jane was, Caroline could not think her an eligible match for Charles: the impropriety of the younger sisters; the grasping stratagems of the mother... Action had been required.

She smiled as Darcy handed her into the Hurst's carriage, before climbing in after her. Hurst rapped on the roof with his cane and they were off.

Back at Netherfield, the house was once again going into hibernation: maids collected ornaments and candlesticks as liveried footmen followed in their wake, draping dust cloths over the furniture. Upstairs, Mrs Fletcher had finished stripping the beds and was busy packing away folded blankets when she came across an additional pillow stuffed in the Master's armoire. She sniffed it. It was not freshly laundered, but had a pleasant smell of lavender. _Perhaps this is the missing pillow from the guest room...?_ The pillow slip was missing. _Now_, w_here could that have got to?_

The rearguard of the Netherfield party sat in silence, each occupying a corner of the carriage as it wended its way towards London in Charles Bingley's wake.

Hurst was in a bad mood. His evening had started well enough as he divested a series of provincials of £500, but then Mr Bennet had sat down. Hurst had trounced the parent of the pulchritudinous Miss Eliza in the first few games, raising the stakes steadily as he did so. It had amused him to imagine he was playing strip poker with the lady herself rather than faro with her parent. He could definitely see the resemblance around the sparkling eyes.

But then Mr Bennet's luck seemed to turn, and that gentleman had risen from the table half an hour later pocketing two thousand pounds of Mr Hurst's hard-earned, and not so hard-earned, cash. The crowning touch to Hurst's displeasure had been effected that morning when Louisa had walked in as he was giving a parting bump to the chambermaid, resulting in much screeching and pillow throwing.

In her corner, Louisa was still stewing over her husband's indiscretion. _London, and the distraction of White's and his other silly clubs_, she thought, _could not come too soon._

In his corner of the carriage, Darcy was reminding himself that Caroline was a very handsome woman. She was an accomplished hostess, and her dowry of twenty thousand pounds was comparable to that of Georgiana's. He would have a very agreeable brother-in-law in Charles...

Caroline, who completed the square, glowed with satisfaction. She was thinking of the letter that she had just sent to Longbourn. _Fait accompli._

* * *

It had been a dismal morning at Longbourn. The house was in an uproar after Mr Collins' failed proposal of marriage to Elizabeth.

Mr Bennet had barricaded himself in his library until sense could be restored. He was sanguine that he had managed to finally recoup some of the money he had spent on finery over the years from that dandy Mr Hurst. He would cheer Mrs Bennet up later by presenting her with £200. _Yes, a tithe seemed a fitting amount. _

Mr Bennet was, of course, the best card player in the district, and the locals knew better than to sit down with him for more than chicken stakes. However, he did not congratulate his own skill too much for last night's success - Mr Hurst's mind had clearly been elsewhere. _Indeed, _thought Mr Bennet_, the last person who had looked at him like **that** had been his tutor at Oxford..._

Mr Collins, thankfully, had been spirited off to Lucas Lodge by Charlotte, after his unsuccessful marriage proposal to Lizzy; but Mrs Bennet's wails continued to rain down from upstairs like a pestilence.

Lizzy's heart was beating a little faster after her narrow escape from matrimony with her cousin. She sat on the stairs holding Jane's hands while her sister cried. Caroline's letter lay discarded on the floor.

"I'm so sorry, Lizzy," said Jane. "I don't know what's come over me. Last night was like a fairytale and today it has all come crumbling down. I shall be better presently. I promise to never wear my heart on my sleeve again."

"He shall come back, Jane," soothed Lizzy. "I know he will. I am sure he is not so inconstant. His sisters are driving this. It is a stratagem on their part."

"I cannot believe that Lizzy. They would not do such a thing. I have misjudged his attachment, that is all. I have a headache. I think I should lie down."

"Yes, do that, Jane," reassured Lizzy. "I'll make a tisane."

Lizzy felt her own heart sink as she made her way through the kitchen, across the scullery, and into the still room. It had been so easy to refuse Mr Collins in the light of Jane's burgeoning attachment to Mr Bingley. _Lord she was no better than her mother counting chickens... Would it have made a difference if she'd known of Mr Bingley's desertion prior to Mr Collins' declaration? Oh, just thinking about being married to her cousin made her skin crawl! She would rather be a governess, but that would not keep the rest of her family in funds once her father was gone... _

She felt decidedly selfish.


	12. Mayfair Musings

Darcy spent a dreary Christmas and New Year in London. Georgiana was still spiritless after the Ramsgate debacle, and Bingley continued to pine for his angel.

Miss Bennet had come to town and visited Hurst's Grosvenor Street townhouse, prompting Caroline to enlist Darcy's help to keep the lovers apart. It all felt so deceitful.

Darcy had been engaged with Charles in the study when Caroline appeared silently at the door making furious hand motions behind her brother's back.

After excusing himself momentarily from Charles, he had engaged in a hastily whispered conversation with Caroline in the hall.

"What?" he asked.

"Make sure you keep him in here for the next half-hour, Jane Bennet has come to visit," Caroline hissed; "grasping hussy that she is!"

Darcy wondered when Jane Bennet had progressed from _sweet thing_ to _grasping hussy_.

"Very well," he'd replied.

He had later heard the front door close, and peering cautiously from the upstairs window, had seen her descend the front steps with another well-dressed lady he did not recognise. Miss Bennet's shoulders were uncharacteristically stooped. He had only ever seen her adopt a very upright carriage before.

_Perhaps it was colder outside than it looked,_ Darcy thought.

Charles, oblivious, continued scratching away with his pen at the desk, making light conversation and inkblots.

* * *

It was a relief when Darcy's cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, arrived at the Darcy townhouse for dinner prior to their departure for Aunt Catherine's estate in Kent for Easter.

After the meal, Georgiana played the pianoforte listlessly, then claimed fatigue and retired early, leaving Richard and Darcy to drink port in his study.

"Richard," said Darcy suddenly, "I've been thinking it's time I settled down."

"Well, well," replied his cousin; "who has inspired these thoughts?"

"I've been staying with Bingley and his sister Caroline in Hertfordshire..."

"Good Lord," cried Richard, "you don't intend marrying that harpy do you?"

"It's interesting you should say that..." Darcy said, recalling his hunting dream.

"Well...?" enquired the colonel.

"No matter," said Darcy, shaking off the nightmare.

Silence fell as Darcy gathered his thoughts. "I'm heading towards thirty... I need someone to help me with Georgiana's debut... but I just can't seem to find a suitable wife."

"Oh," said Richard, somewhat disappointed that he was expected to provide advice rather than hear gossip. "What say we go off to Almack's? The night is still young."

"I can't bear the thought of spending another night there," groaned Darcy.

"You know Darcy, your biggest problem is that you're just not at ease with women," replied the colonel.

Darcy sighed.

"You know," said Richard. "I think you would be better off if we spent some time at Madam Amelie's."

"A brothel?!" yelped Darcy.

"Absolutely!" replied his cousin. "It would do you good, in more ways than one."

"How can you even imagine doing something so intimate with someone you do not know?" asked Darcy. "Exposing yourself in such a fashion?"

"Oh, for Pete's sake, Darcy! What are you and your wife going to do on your wedding night? Talk?"

"I suppose we will be doing what everyone else has been doing since Adam and Eve," bristled Darcy.

"Well, I'm sure she'll be mighty satisfied," scoffed Richard. "Have you even got the faintest?"

"How could I possibly not have, Richard? I've studied animal husbandry; sat around White's 'til my ears burned..."

"So now you're a natural philosopher?" snorted his cousin, burning the inside of his nostrils with brandy.

"Why not?" retorted Darcy. "Why shouldn't I be as innocent as my wife on my wedding night? According to the Book of Common Prayer that's what marriage is supposed to be all about..."

Richard threw his hands in the air. "I give up!"

They both stared at the fire.

Then Richard chuckled. "But I would like to be a fly on the wall on your wedding night."

Darcy smiled with good grace. Then they went to find the good French brandy.


	13. Déjà vu

Darcy hated Rosings. It had been built from the ground up to ostentatiously flaunt Sir Lewis de Bourgh's wealth; and his aunt, Lady Catherine, had continued to embellish it since her husband's death. It was grand to the point of being uncomfortable: the interiors dark, the rooms overcrowded with ill-matched but expensive furniture - mirrors worthy of Versailles placed alongside suits of armour and other baronial horrors.

But Darcy went there every year to help his aunt, Lady Catherine, with the estate, a promise he made to his father on his deathbed. Richard accompanied him when he was able, to ease the pain.

They had just entered Rosings Park when Darcy spotted a female walking through the grounds at a jaunty pace - a female who reminded him forcibly of Elizabeth Bennet. At first, he thought he was hallucinating, then he had the most dreadful thought, _Good Lord, could she have married the parson? _

The gentlemen were received in state by Aunt Catherine in her sitting room. The mud had not dried on their boots before their aunt made her first allusion to the expected nuptials of her daughter Anne to Darcy.

Darcy looked at his cousin sympathetically. Anne was as fragile as a bird. The thought of having conjugal relations with her appalled him. He was sure she would break like china.

Anne gave him an apologetic smile. She looked ill. _Was it possible that she was even more pasty than the last time he'd seen her?_

Aunt Catherine continued to drone on while Darcy remembered Elizabeth Bennet standing next to her cousin in the Main Street of Meryton, of catching a glimpse of them dancing far down the line at the Netherfield ball... He was in a fever of trepidation about Elizabeth Bennet by the time they finally sat down to lunch, and his aunt had to pause to put food in her mouth.

"I met your parson in Hertfordshire," he ventured.

"Yes," replied Lady Catherine regally, "he travelled there several times recently to get married. He is due to inherit a small estate there someday. I believe it is called Longbourn."

_Longbourn, _thought Darcy_, then it must be entailed_... _Good Lord, could she have married him to keep a roof over the heads of her family?_

Darcy gathered his courage. "Perhaps I have also met his bride?"

Richard, who noticed the strain in his voice, looked at him curiously.

"Mrs Collins?" replied his aunt. "Her father was knighted when he was mayor."

Darcy felt limp. _Not her. Then she must be visiting her friend._

"Indeed, we have met," he said. "Perhaps there will be a chance to renew the acquaintance."

* * *

As soon as he could escape his aunt's notice, Darcy flew out of the house.

Richard caught up with him. "Where the hell are you going?"

"The parsonage," replied Darcy. "Coming?"

Richard was perturbed. Darcy's moods and sudden interest in this new acquaintance had not escaped him. _Good Lord, does Darcy fancy Mrs Collins? _

But once Richard was introduced to his aunt's obsequious parson and his guests, all was explained. Miss Elizabeth was all that was lovely and Richard could see that Darcy was smitten: his cousin sat there staring at her, as if in a trance.

_So, this is the lady who had him hearing wedding bells, _thought Richard._ Well, this could be entertaining..._


	14. The nature of the beast

On Tuesday, Darcy encountered Miss Elizabeth in a shady avenue when exercising his horse. He stopped dead a good fifty yards from her, unable to think of anything to say.

She stopped also and glanced around, searching for a means of escape.

Darcy tipped his hat to her and cantered off, cursing himself under his breath for being such a looby.

He spent a wretched afternoon in the study with Lady Catherine's new steward who seemed as competent as her parson.

That night after the ladies retired, Colonel Fitzwilliam began chipping away at Darcy's reluctance to talk about Miss Elizabeth. In preparation for this, the Colonel's batman had concluded important negotiations with the locals, and laid in a stock of more French brandy.

Darcy retired after midnight, rather unsteadily, with his secrets intact. He dreamt that he was chasing Miss Elizabeth through a forest. She was barefoot, wearing a rather gauzy, green confection with a wreath of laurel leaves on her unbound hair. When he caught her, she turned into a tree.

On Wednesday, he slipped out of the house on foot, and after a determined reconnoitre, happened upon Miss Elizabeth and Mrs Collins strolling near the Parsonage. Relying on safety in numbers, he bid them good day, talked civilly of the weather, and departed.

That night, he walked through a forest in his alcohol-fuelled dreams, carefully examining each tree to see if it was Miss Elizabeth.

On attempting to walk out on Thursday, Richard hailed him, and Darcy was forced to accept his company. Encountering all the ladies upon a stroll, Richard offered his arms to Mrs Collins and Miss Elizabeth, leaving Darcy to trail behind with Miss Mariah Lucas. The leading trio conversed with animation, while the trailing pair exchanged not a syllable.

That night, Darcy dreamt of wandering into a grove where he encountered Richard at his leisure, disposed upon a picnic rug is his regimentals. He was laughing as Miss Elizabeth and Mrs Collins fed him fruit, clad only in their chemises. Darcy remonstrated with his cousin for behaving in an ungentleman-like manner.

On Good Friday, Darcy sat not six feet from Miss Elizabeth in church while having to endure one of the stupidest sermons it had been his misfortune to hear. He tried to lessen the pain by imagining sharing his prayer book with her whenever they stood to sing a hymn.

That night he dreamt of taking the prayer book from her hand, before slowing removing one of her gloves and kissing the tip of each finger. He then looked up to find the entire congregation staring at him.

* * *

The inhabitants of the Parsonage were invited to dinner at Rosings on Easter Sunday.

During the meal, Colonel Fitzwilliam monopolised Miss Elizabeth in conversation while Darcy looked on enviously.

His aunt was none too pleased either. "What are you talking of Fitzwilliam? I must have some of the conversation."

"Of music, ma'am," replied the colonel.

His aunt then unleashed another soliloquy on her keen appreciation of music - her latent musical talents, Anne's latent musical talents...

After dinner, Miss Elizabeth played on the pianoforte, while Richard turned pages for her. Finishing a piece and finding Darcy's eyes trained upon her, she asked sweetly whether her playing was _tolerable_.

On Monday, Darcy determined to call on the parsonage. Upon being announced by the maid, he found, to his chagrin, that he was alone with Miss Elizabeth in the parlour. She informed him that the Collins and Mariah had gone to the village, leaving her to attend to her correspondence.

Miss Elizabeth was in no mood to chat with Mr Darcy, having just read another of Jane's quietly despondent letters. After asking several questions about estate management, which Miss Elizabeth answered with monosyllables, Darcy bowed and left.

By Monday evening, the colonel's brandy and Darcy's rising sense of frustration had sufficiently worn that gentleman down that the cousins finally got to the crux of Darcy's problem.

"Richard, how did you become at ease with women?"

"Well," replied Richard drolly. "I talked to my mother, my sister..."

Darcy rolled his eyes. "_Other_ women."

"I went to Madame Amelie's," stated Richard, still unable to take the question entirely seriously.

"A brothel! Oh, surely there's more to a relationship with a woman than that!" scoffed Darcy.

"Probably," replied his cousin, "but it's a good start..."

There was silence as the fire crackled.

"Darcy," said Richard finally; "You're an intelligent chap, good company... You just need to be yourself, talk to her..."

"I can't, Richard," whined Darcy. "I keep having these thoughts. The only way I can avoid them is to talk of estate management."

_Estate management? _Richard was puzzled, "What kind of thoughts?"

"The kind of thoughts you shouldn't have in church," Darcy spat.

Richard burst out with a huge guffaw and proceeded to roll around on the carpet. "Tell me, tell me, I must know!"

"No way. You'll embarrass me at a crucial moment," replied his cousin.

Richard sat up and held up his palm, "My honour as a gentleman."

Darcy began to relate some of his dreams. Richard had not been so entertained for a twelve month.

* * *

The following morning at breakfast, Richard had some sage advice. "You just need to pretend she's a bloke."

Darcy looked up in bewilderment. "Pardon?"

"When you're talking to her," explained Richard; "pretend she's a bloke. Then maybe you'll manage some topics beyond estate management."

With new resolution, Darcy determined to seek out Miss Elizabeth in the park.


	15. Roses are red

Darcy was riding the Rosings boundary on Bucephalus when he next encountered a very jaunty Miss Elizabeth.

"Good morning Alexander, conquered much of the world yet?" she ventured.

Darcy grinned in reply, "No, I've only got as far as Kent."

"Well, that's not bad if you started in Macedonia," Miss Elizabeth quipped.

Darcy reined in and dismounted. "Good morning, Miss Elizabeth," he said bowing over her hand.

Elizabeth had not expected such condescension. "Talking to the _hoi polloi _in Kent, Mr Darcy?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Darcy felt slightly offended. _Is she joking?_ Then he remembered Richard's advice, and pretended to look around. "I don't see any of them Miss Elizabeth, do you?"

She broke into genuine laughter. It was music to his ears.

* * *

On Tuesday, Elizabeth was rather put out to encounter Mr Darcy again, especially after she had hinted the previous day that the path along the boundary was a favourite route for her morning walk.

Eyeing his handsome stallion, she asked, "Why is your horse called Bucelphalus? Do you think you _are_ Alexander the Great, or are you _merely_ paying homage to him?"

"Neither, Miss Elizabeth," Darcy replied, dismounting.

"Perhaps you are planning to invade Persia, Egypt or India?"

"You haven't read your Pliny the Elder, Miss Elizabeth."

"Correct, Mr Darcy. As I cannot read Latin, my knowledge of that gentleman's works are limited to my father's stories."

"My horse has a wall-eye, Miss Elizabeth."

"Now I am _truly_ at sea, Mr Darcy," said Elizabeth, wondering for a moment why Mr Darcy blushed at this pronouncement. "Does that mean that one of his eyes looks strange?"

"Indeed," said Mr Darcy, hastily erasing the vision of Miss Elizabeth as a mermaid from his mind's eye. "One of his eyes is blue, and quite a rare feature in a horse. I've met several people with different coloured eyes, but Bucephalus is the only horse I've seen with such. Alexander's famous horse had the same feature."

"You make me feel very ignorant, Mr Darcy. But as my experience of people is limited to four and twenty families..."

She gave him a wry smile, which he returned gratefully.

She then added, "As I'm not permitted to join Cambridge, you will have to to further my education."

At the potentialities of this, he got hot all over and had to remount his horse in order to avoid embarrassing himself. He tipped his hat and bid her a hasty good day.

_Oh well_, he reasoned as he rode off, _the bloke bit worked to a point._

* * *

On Wednesday, the gentlemen were invited to an impromptu picnic in the parsonage orchard with its inhabitants.

Darcy was slightly uncomfortable because the situation reminded him somewhat of his dream involving Richard and the ladies.

_Bloke, bloke, _he thought to himself. Obviously he had not told Richard of _that_ dream.

Charlotte had made a seed cake and opened a bottle of last year's cherries which she had preserved with the stems intact.

"Charlotte, you're so clever," said Lizzy, eating another cherry. "You must show me how to make these. But don't tell mama I went anywhere near the kitchen," she giggled.

Darcy was intently watching the cherry juice stain Miss Elizabeth's lips.

Richard's eyes flicked back and forward between Darcy and Miss Elizabeth.

"Such an idyllic setting," he sighed. "One can almost imagine the wood nymphs running through the trees."

Darcy choked and gave his cousin a dirty look. _Bloke, bloke, bloke._

Mr Collins, feeling uncomfortable discussing creatures from Ovid, started talking of his next sermon.

"Perhaps we should speak of something else, dear," said Mrs Collins. "You'll spoil the surprise for next Sunday."

"Yes, we can't talk of sermons of the Church of England," Richard joked. "Darcy is a closet Methodist."

Darcy was not fazed. "I'm fairly sure that Methodists don't drink brandy," he retorted.

He then proceeded to amaze the inhabitants of the parsonage by showing them the cherry stem that he had just tied in a knot with his tongue.

"It is his _only_ accomplishment," drawled the colonel.

Miss Elizabeth made a strange face, smiled at Darcy, and burst out laughing. Darcy joined in.

* * *

On Thursday, Darcy was closeted with his aunt going over some final issues on the ledgers. Richard scampered out to enjoy some unalloyed Miss Elizabeth. He felt a _bit_ guilty... well, not much.

He found her on her favourite path. They strolled and conversed agreeably for half an hour, before Miss Elizabeth decided to pump the colonel for news about Mr Bingley.

"Have you met Mr Darcy's friend, Mr Charles Bingley?" she asked.

"Indeed, I've had the pleasure of his company at Darcy's townhouse once or twice. A sweet fellow, tho' his frippery brother-in-law is less so."

"Mr Hurst?"

"That's him," replied the colonel, "an insufferable boor."

Elizabeth smiled. "I won't disagree with that assessment, but Mr Bingley is very amiable."

"Darcy is so solicitous of him," remarked the colonel, trying to curry favour for his cousin. "He has really taken him under his wing - like a younger brother. Even recently saved him from an unfortunate entanglement..."

Elizabeth stiffened imperceptibly. "How so?"

"Oh, apparently he is forever falling in and out of love," replied the colonel. "Well, he fell hard, and was getting way too particular with a lady who was not eligible."

"Really?" Elizabeth said archly. "Were some of her relatives in fleet prison? Or perhaps committed to Bedlam?"

"I believe she was a bit of a fortune hunter," said the colonel; "and her family weren't quite the thing."

Lizzy was unable to maintain the facade any longer. The insult to herself and her sister was too great. It was all too raw.

_So it wasn't just Caroline and Louisa conspiring against Jane,_ she thought_; Mr Darcy was in the thick of it. Just when I was beginning to think that he wasn't so bad after all..._

Richard noticed that she'd suddenly gone pale. "Are you alright, Miss Elizabeth?"

"I'm sorry," she replied. "I suddenly felt faint. I believe I've walked too far today."


	16. She speaks poniards

Darcy was pacing in his chambers. His work at Rosings was largely finished and he needed to get back to London. _Should he? Shouldn't he?_ He'd never been gripped by such raw attraction to a woman before. The pretty ladies of the Ton who had floated through his list of eligibles, before snaring some other gentleman, seemed insipid in comparison.

His relatives would be aghast. _Maybe not Richard... he would probably support him for the glee of winding up his father, the Earl. Nor perhaps his cousin Anne - she would probably breathe a sigh of relief. Aunt Catherine? It didn't bear thinking about. _

_What would his father have thought? _Darcy wondered._ Who knew?_ He had never understood his father, but he did know his parents had married for love. Then again, his mother _was_ an Earl's daughter.

_Would he ever find Miss Elizabeth's equal? Could he bear to marry someone else? Would he find himself pretending it was her when he... Oh, Lord!_

Taking a deep breath, he set out for the Parsonage.

* * *

Returning from her walk with the colonel, Elizabeth ran up to her room and threw herself onto her bed.

_How lowering. _She had always thought of herself as a gentleman's daughter. Not of the first circles: but she was not intimidated by the likes of Lady Catherine; and she could converse easily with an Earl's son.

Richard had clearly been flirting with her. He'd made it clear he wasn't in a position to offer marriage, but she had thought he viewed her as a lady. Now he had forced her to revise her perception of her station in life. _Did he consider her to be a country maid to be trifled with?_ And Mr Darcy... he didn't even have a title, but he took staring down his nose to new heights!

Certainly Elizabeth had to admit that her mother and her two younger sisters occasionally lacked decorum, but to be considered the inferiors of the Bingleys! ...those haughty sisters with their private school educations.

Charlotte knocked and, finding her friend uncharacteristically stretched out on her bed, could clearly see she was not fit to go to Rosings. Her offer of a tisane declined, she promised to check on Elizabeth when she returned.

After the Collins and Mariah had left for Rosings, Elizabeth descended to the parlour to spend the evening rereading Jane's letters: a past time that could only be compared to worrying a sore tooth.

She was puzzled when she heard the bell, and completely astonished when Mr Darcy was announced. Her consternation was increased when he appeared in a state of agitation.

He paced up and down before her, running his hands through his disordered locks, before turning and declaring, "In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."

She blinked.

He pressed his lips together and continued. "I know that you may not have anticipated this. We do not move in the same circles. Indeed, the difference between our stations is large. I cannot rejoice in the inferiority of your connections. My relatives are sure to demur as there are so many objections: you have lived all your life in the country; your education is unorthodox; you have not been presented at court; and although you and your eldest sister conduct yourselves with propriety, your family are frequently indecorous."

"But," he continued, getting down on one knee, "my attraction to you has overcome these qualms. You inhabit my dreams. I cannot live without you. Please relieve my suffering and consent to be my wife."

Darcy could see that Miss Elizabeth was shocked and discomposed. Her manner was quite at odds to the joyful acceptance he had imagined. _Perhaps he gone too fast for her?_

And then she quietly replied, "In such cases as this, it is, I believe, the established mode to express a sense of obligation for the sentiments avowed, however unequally they may be returned. It is natural that obligation should be felt, and if I could feel gratitude, I would now thank you. But I cannot—I have never desired your good opinion, and you have certainly bestowed it most unwillingly. I am sorry to have occasioned pain to any one. It has been most unconsciously done, however, and I hope will be of short duration. The feelings which you tell me have long prevented the acknowledgment of your regard can have little difficulty in overcoming it after this explanation."

_What? _thought Darcy._ She had rejected him? Was this another of his vile nightmares? How was this possible?_

He felt decidedly foolish on his knee. Standing up, he paused as he tried to dampen his gathering indignation. "And this is all the reply which I am to have the honour of expecting? I might, perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little endeavour at civility, I am thus rejected."

_Good Lord! _thought Elizabeth;_ would he not just go away!_

She stood, and her courage rose...

"I might as well inquire," replied she, "why, with so evident a design of offending and insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me against your will, against your reason, and even against your character? Was not this some excuse for incivility, if I was uncivil? But I have other provocations. You know I have. Had not my own feelings decided against you, had they been indifferent, or had they even been favourable, do you think that any consideration would tempt me to accept the man who has been the means of ruining, perhaps for ever, the happiness of a most beloved sister?"

She paused to take a shaky breath, and was irked when she noticed Mr Darcy's incredulous expression.

"I have every reason in the world to think ill of you. No motive can excuse the unjust and ungenerous part you acted there. You dare not, you cannot, deny that you have been the principal, if not the only means of dividing them from each other, of exposing one to the censure of the world for caprice and instability, the other to its derision for disappointed hopes, and involving them both in misery of the acutest kind."

Darcy groaned inwardly, but before he could defend himself against her accusation, she hurled Wickham's tale of injustice at him.

He could feel his ire rising as his heartbeat began to throb in his ears. Her words muddied to a low thrum punctuated by the spiteful ejaculations that punched through... "Wickham ...misfortunes ...infliction... ungentlemanly..."

Overwhelmed by an urge to halt the venom pouring from her plump lips, he lunged towards her and saw her eyes widen suddenly with fright.

Stepping backwards quickly, she stumbled.

With what he would later assure himself were purely chivalrous motives, he grabbed her, swinging her round in a surprisingly graceful movement that returned her to her feet while she issued squawks of protest.

Then overcome with her proximity, he fiercely stoppered her hateful words with his mouth. In a moment that seemed to stretch to eternity he noted the heat of her lips, inhaled her deliciously musky smell, tasted her sweet breath, and then promptly dropped his hands to his sides and stepped backwards, averting his eyes.

Stealing a furtive glance at her, he saw her sway on the spot, her lips parted in a perfect "o". _How she looked like Romney's painting of Circe!_

Panting, he forced his heartbeat to a more regulated rhythm. "I beg your pardon, Miss Elizabeth. I fear I lost my temper."

It was all he could manage in the circumstances. Sketching a brief bow, he nodded, turned, and in several quick strides, fled through the Parsonage door and into the night.


	17. Violets are blue

When Darcy didn't turn up for dinner, Richard went to seek him out in his chambers once the ladies withdrew.

He found him with his head down, leaning against the mantelpiece. He looked terrible. "Darce, are you alright?"

"Bloody Wickham!"

Richard poured some brandy. "Why has he come up now?"

"He always manages to come between me and the people most dear to me," Darcy croaked.

"I don't know why you let that guy discompose you so. You should've let me call him out about Georgiana."

"You don't know the half of it."

"So tell me the other half."

"Wickham ruined my relationship with my father," offered Darcy, unable to speak of Wickham's latest attack on his heart.

The story of the kitchenmaid tumbled out. It was a good measure of Darcy's discomposure. He'd never before told a soul of his mortifying thrashing.

They were sitting there in silence clutching their brandy when there was a knock on the door. It was one of Lady Catherine's footmen demanding their presence on her behalf.

"Tell Aunt that Darcy's indisposed," Richard yelled through the door without getting up. "Our apologies, we won't be joining the ladies tonight." Richard smiled to himself, wondering if the footman had noticed the veiled insult to Collins...

As the footsteps receded in the corridor, Richard leaned back in his chair. "Well that explains a few things. You know she ended up on our estate, don't you? Married the blacksmith's son. It was clear she'd been knocked up by someone else. But such things are common enough. I thought for a while that your father...but that was because I heard dad grouching about your father wanting to see the kid. That was when I came back from my first furlough... The kid was probably about three then... By the time he was seven he was the spitting image of George. I presumed your father was just helping his godson out of trouble. So he thought the child was yours..."

There was a pregnant pause before Darcy managed:-

"I thought papa had gone to his grave not knowing any different. Do you think he realised the boy was George's get?"

"Of course Darce," replied Richard. "There was no mistaking it."

"He never said a word..." said Darcy quietly.

They sat in silence for awhile.

Then Darcy got up. "Thanks Richard, that means a lot to me."

"Are you sure there's nothing else you want to spill?"

Darcy stared out the window into the inky blackness of the night.

"I'm finished here at Rosings. You should go to bed, we're off to London tomorrow. I need to write a letter."


	18. The scarlet letter

On cockcrow, Darcy left the house on foot. He walked along her favourite path several times before it occurred to him that she might seek to avoid him today, and he resolved to broaden his search.

He found her in the grove.

She stopped upon perceiving him, and eyed him warily as he approached.

Darcy performed a deep bow.

"Miss Bennet, as distasteful as it may be to you, I feel compelled to renew my offer based on my execrable behaviour last night."

Elizabeth held up her hand to stop him.

"I'm sorry for my loss of equanimity Mr Darcy, and for provoking you, too, to lose your temper and do something rash. But I'm sure that in the calmer light of day we can both see reason. There is no need for you to renew your offer on the basis that you have compromised me. No one else knows what happened and I'd rather that we both forget it."

Darcy had been expecting this, but hadn't realised it would be so painful. He felt something catch in his throat as she said the last sentence Closing his eyes, he brought his fist up to hide his mouth, which had twisted into a bitter grimace.

Then he nodded silently and held out his letter.

She took it warily, as if she was afraid it might be an asp about to bite her. Then he bowed quickly and walked away.

Elizabeth walked slowly along the path to the parsonage. She wasn't happy about the letter and considered disposing of it unopened. But she was not insensible to the pain she had seen in Mr Darcy's eyes. Regardless of how poorly he had presented his suit, he was obviously quite cut up.

_Oh, the poor man,_ she thought. _He is obviously quite tongue-tied and not able to voice his apology._

At that point she struck off on a path orthogonal to the one she had been treading and, upon reaching a grove with a fallen log, sat down upon it and opened his letter.

After reading it, she felt her world had indeed been turned through 90 degrees. She had no reason to doubt his veracity. She already had good reasons to believe that Mr Wickham was a slippery character - his sudden interest in the heiress Miss King, and his evasion of Mr Darcy at the Netherfield ball, being two things that immediately sprang to mind. _But so bad? His little sister? It really was quite gut wrenching! _

She got up and started walking fast as past events threaded through her mind at an incredible rate, taking on new aspects.

Finally she reached some degree of acceptance regarding regarding the likely veracity of his statements on Wickham, and her mind slipped down to the other issue of Jane and Bingley.

Rereading the letter, she pondered his defence. She supposed Mr Darcy's explanation might hold water. _Perhaps his prejudice even encouraged his own self-deceit. Likely he did __**think**__ he held his friend's best interests at heart. But how officious of him! Just like his aunt._

When Elizabeth finally retraced her steps to the Parsonage, she found that Mr Darcy and the colonel had already taken their leave for London.

She could not be sorry for missing them. She was poor company, pleaded a headache, and spent the evening in her room.


	19. Smells like regret

After departing Rosings, Darcy retreated to his London townhouse to lick his wounds.

When Richard had to rejoin his regiment, Darcy threw himself into his habitual London activities. He fenced assiduously and attended two meetings of the Royal Society, but he could not escape the thoughts that circled in his head.

_Had he been arrogant?_

Yes. He felt more humble now in the shadow of her rejection.

_Could he love again?_

Perhaps not. In his entire six years in the marriage mart, _she_ was the only one who had struck his fancy. What were the chances he would find such another?

_Should he continue in solitude?_

Pemberley could go to Georgiana's children... But would he be failing his birthright to delegate the succession in such a way?

_Should he make a pragmatic decision, one to ensure the succession? Caroline?_

No, there was yet time. He would wait until Georgiana was twenty-five. If she had no children by that time, then he would marry for convenience. He would be thirty-seven then. He would choose someone young and strong, _like Miss Elizabeth is now_. His will already directed Pemberley to Richard should Georgiana and himself both meet an untimely end.

_Was he being maudlin?_

Possibly, only time would tell.

He picked up the brandy decanter and then put it down again. _ Perhaps he had better not drink any more brandy tonight..._

* * *

The Bingley sisters called regularly, ostensibly to see Georgiana. Darcy's little sister took no joy in their company and would send a servant to plead for his presence in the parlour as they took tea.

For Darcy, these visits took on the aspect of a game of cat and mouse. Miss Bingley would always be standing when he walked into the room. As soon as he sat, she would sit beside him. One day he sat on the piano stool, with his back to the keyboard and she squeezed beside him there. That was disturbing. He burnt his tongue when he quickly drank down his tea so he could get up to refill his cup.

One evening, as his sister played one of his favourite piano pieces, he rearranged the furniture so one chair was in isolation. This, he decided, would be his refuge. Georgiana watched him in puzzlement.

When the Bingley sisters called the following day, he entered the room, to find Louisa Hurst sitting in his chair. Caroline gave him a very sweet smile. Now, he felt like he was playing chess.

Charles was still not himself and poor company.

The truth was Charles was finding it hard to get over Miss Bennet. He'd brought the pillowslip she'd lain on at Netherfield to London with his belongings, and placed it on a pillow on his bed. For several months, he stuffed the pillow into his armoire before breakfast, to keep it from the chambermaids who changed the sheets. Until that fateful day he forgot.

Walking into his room in the evening, he immediately spied the extra pillow left on the freshly-made bed and raced to check it had not been touched. But alas! the delicious lavender scent was gone. It smelled of soap.

Charles felt it was the hand of fate, telling him to listen to his sisters, and move on; and he really tried. But instead of breaking his ties with the past, the absence of that sweet scent plunged him into deeper despair. It was if he'd finally lost his footing on a slippery slope, and plunged willy-nilly into the blackness below.

Noticing Charles' increasingly depressed spirits, Darcy invited him to stay at his townhouse. _Perhaps_, he reasoned, _Charles needs more time away from Caroline._ Darcy knew _he _did.

Darcy had hoped they would cheer each other up, but this proved a vain wish. Worse still, Caroline visited more often, ostensibly to check on her brother's welfare.

_Penance_, thought Darcy.

* * *

Eventually, the time came for the Darcys to remove from London to Derbyshire for the summer. In the light of his burgeoning guilt about Charles' depressed state, Darcy invited the Bingleys and the Hursts to Pemberley. He was really worried for his friend and felt it would be unwise to leave him alone. Given Caroline's increasing rapaciousness, Darcy thought this a great sacrifice on his friend's behalf.

The night before the journey to Pemberley, Darcy pulled out the French brandy in a further attempt to improve Charles's mood.

They emptied a bottle between them in companionable silence.

Darcy knew there was a point during the process of inebriation when he started to think more clearly; but he also knew from past experience that, measure for measure, Charles seemed to reach that point with less alcohol.

The gap in their tolerances seemed exaggerated tonight. Once Darcy was feeling really lucid, he could see that his friend was definitely under the weather.

Apropos of nothing, Charles suddenly blurted:-

"Caroline's been nagging me to let go of Netherfield. She says I would be better off with an estate in Derbyshire near you."

"I find it hard to imagine Caroline in the wilds of Derbyshire," replied Darcy.

Silence reigned as they both contemplated the fundamental truth of this statement.

Then rousing himself, and trying to change the subject, Darcy essayed, "You missed a good talk at the Royal Society the other night. Franklin spoke of a modern interpretation of Aristotle's concept of psyche."

"Stop using large words," slurred Bingley.

Darcy frowned. "Aristotle? Well, I suppose it has four syllables."

"No, psyche... what the hell does that mean?"

"Psyche has _six_ letters, Bingley," said Darcy retrieving the Royal Society's flyer from his pocket.

Bingley glared at it. "Well, they're damned strange ones," he pouted.

"It means soul, Bingley," said Darcy quietly.

"I lost my soul six weeks ago," declared Bingley. "They put it in the washing."

Darcy shifted in his chair and rang for another bottle.

* * *

It had not been Darcy's intention to drink Charles under the table. He was only feeling a trifle warm himself when Charles slipped down in his chair and fell asleep. Charles was slightly shorter than himself and more slight, but he had always managed to keep pace before.

_Perhaps,_ thought Darcy,_ I been putting away more brandy over the last few months than is moderate..._

Darcy summoned a footman and, asking him to take Charles by his boots, they carried him upstairs to bed. Once they had removed his boots and wrestled his waistcoat off, Darcy dismissed the footman and pulled off Charles' breeches himself. After removing Charles' cravat and loosening his shirt, Darcy leant over to snuff out the candle, whereupon Charles grabbed him by the shoulders, and with his eyes still closed moaned, "I love you Miss Bennet."

Darcy sprang back as if scalded. Then with a rueful look on his face, he adopted his softest voice and replied, "I love you too, Charles."


	20. Pemberley

"Good Lord, what a pile!"

"You don't like it Lizzy?" replied her aunt. "I think it is very elegant."

Pemberley was before them. The house, a large, handsome stone building, standing well on rising ground, was backed by a ridge of high woody hills. In front, a stream of some natural importance was widened, but without any artificial appearance. Its banks were neither formal nor falsely adorned.

"Of course, Aunt. It is all that is beautiful. I just had not imagined it was so... big."

Elizabeth stared at it in trepidation for some time. Now she better understood the source of Mr Darcy's arrogance and pride, she could not help thinking he had some justification for it. _Not that it excused his behaviour, but she could see where he was coming from. ...An easy pit to fall into._

She turned back to her aunt.

"He cannot possibly have supported the building of such an edifice on the basis of a rent roll. What are the sources of his income?"

"Well, I have no idea," replied Mrs Gardiner. "The Palladian wing you see was built during his father's time. Do you know, Edward?"

Mr Gardiner turned to his wife. "Eh? His income? Well, perhaps he has some money invested in the funds... The Duke of Devonshire mines lead and copper, I've heard. Although I don't know if it would be found around here too, since it is further from The Peaks."

On applying to see the place, they were admitted into the hall, and assured the owner was not currently in residence.

Inside, the rooms were lofty and handsome and the house was furnished with taste and restraint in a manner consistent with the neoclassical exterior. Lizzie had expected it to be pompous like Rosings, but it was neither gaudy nor uselessly fine, with less of splendour, and more real elegance.

As they followed the housekeeper, Elizabeth noted that she was a respectable-looking elderly woman, much less fine, and more civil, than Elizabeth might have expected in such a grand place.

They entered the dining-parlour: a large, well-proportioned room, handsomely fitted up. After slightly surveying it, Elizabeth went to a window to enjoy its prospect. Every disposition of the ground was good; and she looked on the whole scene, the river, the trees scattered on its banks, and the winding of the valley, as far as she could trace it, with delight. As they passed into other rooms, these objects were seen in new aspects; but from every window there were beauties to be beheld.

Her aunt called her to look at a picture. She approached, and saw the likeness of Mr Wickham, suspended amongst several other miniatures, over the mantelpiece. Her aunt asked her, smilingly, how she liked it.

The housekeeper came forward, and told them it was the picture of a young gentleman, the son of her late master's steward, who had been brought up by him at his own expense.

"He is now gone into the army," she added; "but I am afraid he has turned out very wild."

Mrs Gardiner looked at her niece with a smile, but Elizabeth could not return it.

"And that," said the housekeeper, pointing to another of the miniatures, "is my master—and very like him. It was drawn at the same time as the other—about eight years ago."

Elizabeth's thoughts now turned to Mr Darcy, the man she had so maligned in her mind, encouraged by George Wickham. She became more and more subdued during the tour of the house as his housekeeper's laudatory comments shored up the basic goodness of Mr Darcy's character. Her world had spun on its axis once again.

When they reached the gallery, Mrs Gardiner stopped in front of a fine portrait of old Mr Darcy. "His father was an excellent man," she said.

"Yes, ma'am," said the housekeeper, "that he was indeed; and his son will be just like him—just as affable to the poor."

Elizabeth walked on in quest of the only face whose features she knew. At last it arrested her—and she beheld a striking resemblance of Mr Darcy, with such a smile over his face as she remembered to have sometimes seen when he looked at her,

She sighed, unable not to be affected by the elegance surrounding her and, for a moment, imagining herself living there.

_Did she regret her refusal now? _She could not. Although her perception of him had shifted once again in his favour, the basic kernel of respect was still lacking, as evidenced by the manner of his proposal and his bitter letter. There could be no good future for such a relationship. She could not bear to be forever separated from her family. She would be investing in heartache.

Nonetheless she felt weighed down by melancholy, realising that despite their basic incompatibility, he was a worthy person, and that to be truly loved by someone like him would be its own reward. Something that might have occurred in a parallel universe to a better Elizabeth Bennet: a slightly less flighty Elizabeth Bennet, with better behaved relations...


	21. Kismet

The trip to Derbyshire had been tedious. When Darcy decided to ride Bucephalus to put some physical separation between himself and Miss Bingley, Charles elected to join him on horseback. Behind them, the ladies accompanied Hurst in his commodious travelling carriage while the Darcy carriage brought up the rear, carrying only the servants. Miss Bingley had insisted that Georgiana keep her company rather than allow her to ride only with the hired help. Caroline had been stopping the carriage for tea every couple of hours. It was all part of her plan to spend quality time with Mr Darcy.

"Does she do this when you travel to Yorkshire?" enquired Darcy as they rode along.

"No," replied Charles, rather bemused, "Perhaps she is indisposed..."

"Well, I'm really not surprised, considering the amount of tea she is drinking," replied Darcy.

On the morning of the next to last day, Charles's horse was led out lame from the stable, and he had to squeeze back into Hurst's carriage. This drew loud protestations from Caroline, who had been sharing a seat with Georgiana, and was now forced to share it also with Louisa, as Charles climbed in next to Hurst.

His patience at its end, Darcy advised Bingley of his intention to ride ahead, citing urgent business with his steward.

Darcy's spirits improved as he got closer to Pemberley, and when Bucephalus broke into a gallop upon passing the gatehouse, he did not restrain him.

He had just topped the rise, allowing him a view of his demesne, when he spotted a female walking through the grounds behind another couple—a female who reminded him forcibly of Elizabeth Bennet. The group were attended by the head gardener, and thus must be visitors touring the estate.

Riding closer, he squinted. It_ was _her! His mind was instantly alert. Another chance to put himself in a better light!

"Thank you, Lord," he murmured, spurring Buchephalus onwards.

"Miss Elizabeth," he said dismounting, doffing his hat and sweeping a deep bow.

Elizabeth had stopped and turned upon hearing the approaching hoof beats, but she could not discern the rider with the sun in her eyes.

"Mr Darcy!" she said, rather startled, upon finally perceiving him. "We thought you were not expected until tomorrow!"

"The Bingleys and my sister will be here tomorrow," he explained. "I rode ahead."

"I beg your pardon, sir," she said as she curtsied, much chagrined. "I'm touring Derbyshire with my aunt and uncle. My aunt is a former resident of Lambton and was very keen to visit Pemberley. I would not have presumed to invade your domain had I known you would be present."

Now Darcy was on home ground, the words came easily. "Miss Elizabeth, I could not have imagined a more pleasant homecoming surprise. Will you introduce me to your aunt and uncle?"

Elizabeth could not have been more astonished. Mr Darcy was all civility.

Darcy was equally astonished after the introductions. _This refined gentleman is Mrs Bennet's brother?_

Recollecting himself, he realised he was probably looking a little worse for wear. "I regret I am still dusty from the road. I see you have only just started the tour of the gardens. Would you care to take tea before you depart?"

Elizabeth was too discomposed to reply.

Her aunt intervened. "Thank you, Mr Darcy, you are too kind; but I'm sure you wish to rest after your ride."

As if agreeing with this suggestion, Bucephalus nudged Darcy in the back, indicating his wish to be back in his stable, with some oats and a nice rub down.

"You are staying in Lambton?" Darcy enquired. "Then would you permit me to call upon you tomorrow? I would very much like to introduce my sister to you, Miss Elizabeth."

"It would be a very great pleasure to meet her, Mr Darcy," replied Elizabeth, recovering some of her composure.

Mrs Gardiner smiled at her niece's uncharacteristic lack of aplomb. "You will find us at the Rose and Crown, Mr Darcy."

With bows, curtsies and a neigh they parted.

* * *

During the carriage ride back to Lambton Elizabeth felt her aunt watching her like a hawk, but she refused to look up, and she knew her aunt would not press her in front of the coachman.

However upon reaching her chamber at the inn, her aunt followed her inside.

"Mr Darcy was all affability, Elizabeth. How gracious of him to condescend to introduce you to his sister. What can he mean by it?"

"He surprised me also, Aunt. I have never seen him so civil."

"Indeed," replied her aunt, "things are quite topsy-turvy: Mr Darcy was the perfect gentleman and Mr Wickham's character was quite thrown into question by the housekeeper. Is it possible we could have been mistaken in their characters?"

"Yes, Aunt, it would appear so," said Lizzy, biting her lip.

As Elizabeth was still unforthcoming, her aunt withdrew, leaving her to her own thoughts.

* * *

The following morning, Elizabeth's aunt and uncle went calling on friends in the village, leaving Elizabeth to await her visitors alone. Upon hearing the sound of a team of horses draw up outside, Elizabeth approached the window and observed Mr Darcy helping a young lady down from a smart phaeton. She was astonished to see that they were accompanied by Mr Bingley on horseback.

The innkeeper was more than gratified when he ushered the Darcy party into a private parlour. Although the household servants brought produce for Pemberley in the village, the Darcys themselves hardly ever entered Lambton. _Such condescension!_

The introductions were made, and again the falsity of Mr Wickham's words was borne unto Elizabeth when she perceived that Miss Darcy was a very shy and gentle young lady, not haughty at all.

After Darcy introduced his sister, Miss Darcy hesitatingly extended a dinner invitation to Elizabeth as well as her aunt and uncle for that evening.

Then Mr Bingley stepped forward to renew his acquaintance. He blushingly requested news of Elizabeth's sisters.

Elizabeth politely responded with news of them all, though she could see that her words about Jane were the only ones he attended.

After taking coffee, the guests departed to Pemberley while Elizabeth retreated to her room to think further on the days events. She parsed and reparsed every word and look of Mr Darcy, as his character took on new aspects with each review.

When her aunt and uncle returned to take their midday meal with her, they noticed her abstraction and exchanged a glance.

* * *

During their morning's outing, Mrs Gardiner had had her niece's welfare firmly in mind when she visited her friends. With respect to Wickham, discreet inquiries soon found that he was not held there in much estimation: it was a well-known fact that, on his quitting Derbyshire, he had left many debts behind him, which Mr Darcy afterwards discharged. With respect to Mr Darcy, she heard only good.

Upon returning to the inn and hearing of the invitation to dinner at Pemberley, Mrs Gardiner was in two minds. Having grown up in Lambton, in very different circles to the Darcys, she was more than gratified by the family's invitation, but she was conscious that it was extended solely on behalf of her niece.

"Perhaps, it would be better if you attended alone, Elizabeth. You are known to all the party. I fear your uncle and I may be de trop."

Convinced as Elizabeth now was that Miss Bingley's dislike of her had originated in jealousy, she could not help feeling how unwelcome her appearance at Pemberley must be to that lady.

"Please don't abandon me me, Aunt. I will feel quite outnumbered."

Thus her aunt was gratified to accept the offered treat of a dinner at Pemberley.

Following a walk after lunch, Elizabeth retired to her chamber to await her aunt and uncle's return, and rest before the evening, but her mind was in such turmoil that she lay awake for the two hours available to her.

Elizabeth was astonished at Mr Darcy's attentions.

She found it hard to believe that any man's regard could remain steadfast after she had abused him so. Indeed, Mr Collins undying love had not lasted a day after her _polite_ refusal of _his_ suit.

Not only did it appear that Mr Darcy's love remained true, he seemed to have addressed her reproofs. He had been so polite to her aunt and uncle, even though he knew her uncle was in trade and lived near Cheapside.

Finally, the last obstacles to her love began to melt away. She and her relatives had been treated with the utmost respect.

_Could she marry this man?_ Yes, he was a good man, a man who steered clear of the many vices that were undoubtedly available to him, a man who continually sought to reform his character... _A very handsome man._

Now her confidence began to quake. From easy disdain in Hertfordshire she had progressed to uncertain trepidation in Derbyshire.

As the evening approached, they all set about making themselves look as fine as possible with their limited resources.

* * *

At Pemberley, more mundane thoughts were occupying the Darcys.

The table arrangement was a bone of contention between Fitzwilliam and Georgiana, both of them wishing to be as far from Caroline as possible. Nor was the boorish Mr Hurst in demand as a dinner companion. Darcy, sitting at one end of the table, had positioned Miss Elizabeth to his left. Georgiana, sitting at other end, had claimed the affable Charles for her left. _What to do with the Gardiners?_ After Darcy assured Georgiana that Mrs Gardiner was not a dragon, she accepted that lady for her right, leaving Mr Gardiner for Darcy's right. They placed Louisa on Charles' left, and Caroline between Louisa and Mr Gardiner. Thus Hurst defaulted to the opposite side of the table between Elizabeth and Mrs Gardiner. With one chair removed from the table, they decided Hurst would have plenty of room should he decide to fall asleep or engage in some other antisocial activity.

* * *

When the Darcy's travelling carriage arrived to spirit the guests to Pemberley, they emerged from the inn looking very fine. Mr and Mrs Gardiner made a handsome couple, dressed with the colour of her green gown echoed in his brocade waistcoat. Elizabeth was attired in a similar colour with a beautiful gauze overdress made from material from her uncle's warehouse. Jane had stitched it for her during her lonely months in London.

As she stepped into the carriage, Elizabeth could not repress the thought that she felt like a princess.


	22. Done like a dinner

**Last edit 26/7/16**

On reaching Pemberley, the Gardiner party were shown through the hall into the saloon, where Mr Darcy strode forward to meet them, renewing his civilities to Mr and Mrs Gardiner and eyeing Miss Elizabeth appreciatively. _How she looked like the wood nymph of his dreams!_

Looking around, Elizabeth noticed the Bingley sisters were absent. Upon catching her glance, Mr Bingley came forward and bowed over Elizabeth's hand.

"Miss Elizabeth, I would be honoured to meet your aunt and uncle."

Mrs Gardiner was pleased to finally meet the elusive Mr Bingley, and gave that young man a penetrating stare despite her genteel smile.

Half an hour after the appointed dinnertime, Caroline and her sister finally made their grand entrance. The sisters were ridiculously overdressed with feathers and jewellery in abundance. Darcy then remade the introductions that the tardy Bingley sisters had missed.

When the party entered the dining room, Caroline ignored the placecards, moving swiftly to stake her seat on Mr Darcy's right. Whether it was her intention to bump Mr Gardiner from his place, or she merely failed to notice that gentleman because her attention was fixed on Mr Darcy, only she could know. But when the footmen pushed the chairs in, she landed ungracefully on top of Mr Gardiner.

During the moment when Mr Gardiner found himself with a magnificently dressed society lady sitting in his lap, he shot his wife a look of amusement down the table, raising his eyebrow by a fraction that only she could detect. She returned a seemingly benign, but conspiratorial, look back.

Caroline jumped up, declaring, "Sir, you are sitting in my chair!"

Mr Darcy intervened. "Caroline, you are mistaken, please move one place to your right."

Darcy subtly gestured the hapless footman away, and settled Caroline into her chair himself. She preened at the attention.

Once everyone was seated and the soup was served, Caroline sallied forth with an attack on Mr Gardiner. "I understand you live in Cheapside, sir," she smirked.

Mr Gardiner's eyes slid towards Elizabeth, before returning to his dinner companion. "Near Cheapside, Miss Bingley—on Gracechurch Street."

Elizabeth smiled. "Cheapside is a street, Miss Bingley. It is an old Saxon word for Market Street. Do you live near the equivalent street in Scarborough?"

Caroline did not know what 'equivalent' meant but she recognised a swipe when she heard one, "We live in _Mayfair_, Miss Elizabeth, not far from Mr Darcy."

Charles inwardly grimaced at the martial light in his sister's eye and flicked a glance at Darcy.

That gentleman came gallantly to the rescue. "Have you studied geometry, Miss Elizabeth?"

All the Bingleys blinked at this apparent non sequitur.

"Yes, Mr Darcy," replied Miss Elizabeth, perplexed, but willing to follow his lead. "Do you also enjoy the study of triangles and parallel lines?"

"Enormously, Miss Elizabeth. Although I can only wonder at a lady studying such a subject," he joked.

"The Bennet ladies have had very _unique_ educations," said Caroline.

"Geometry is of enormous use when drafting dress patterns, Mr Darcy," Miss Elizabeth replied coolly.

"Indeed," countered Caroline, "no doubt one _does_ have to make one's own dresses in the country."

Another change of subject seemed desirable.

"Mr Darcy," said Mr Gardiner, "I was wondering if you know anything of the lead mining industry here in Derbyshire."

Darcy almost sighed with relief.

"Indeed, Mr Gardiner, my father very shrewdly invested in a number of the mines. Many of them were abandoned when they reached the water table. My father was involved in several companies that sought to reopen some of the mines by digging a sough to drain them."

"Very ingenious, Mr Darcy," said Mr Gardiner, nodding at Elizabeth, "both the sough, and your father's foresight in investing."

"Indeed," said Mr Darcy, "he puts me quite to shame. While I have managed my father's investments responsibly, I have done nothing to increase them."

"But you must have been very young when you took on the burden of these responsibilities?" mused Elizabeth.

"I had not long finished at Cambridge. I was involved in the management of the estate but a year when my father died unexpectedly. It took several more years before I felt that I was finally master of the estate."

_Then came Ramsgate, _thought Darcy,_ punishing me for my hubris._

"Pemberley could have no finer master," simpered Miss Bingley.

"I was fortunate in having a very good steward to guide me after my father's death," continued Darcy.

The soup plates being removed, Darcy stood to carve the haunch of venison. Several freshly steamed trout, plates of boiled and baked vegetables, and a dish of fried mushrooms were added to the table.

_No doubt Mr Hurst is missing his ragout_, thought Miss Elizabeth as she surveyed the bounty.

"Is the deer from your own estate, Mr Darcy?" asked Mr Gardiner.

"Of course," smiled Darcy.

"And would it have been fresh killed for this dinner?"

"I believe it is best hung for a sennight, Mr Gardiner, although Mrs Reynolds could tell you better. It was probably killed last week in anticipation of our arrival."

"Are there many deer on the estate, Mr Darcy?" asked Elizabeth.

"There are several hundred, both fallow and red," said Darcy, taking his seat again after doing his duty as the master.

They managed to make it through the main course without any further conversational skirmishes, Miss Bingley being content to take the occasional potshot, while Miss Elizabeth was determined not to rise to the bait.

During dessert, for which the table was laden with beautiful pyramids of grapes, nectarines, and peaches, Darcy fell silent, having begun to compare the peach in his hand with Miss Elizabeth's complexion.

"May I suggest," said Darcy, rousing himself from his abstraction, "since we are blessed with the company of so many ladies, that we proceed straight to the drawing room?"

It was Darcy's object to hear Miss Elizabeth sing once again.

Some inarticulate grumbling was heard from Mr Hurst at this suggestion.

Folding her napkin decisively, Miss Bingley shot up from her chair, stepped quickly around Mr Gardiner before he could rise, and hooked her hand around Mr Darcy's right elbow as he stood.

"What an excellent idea, Mr Darcy," she cooed.

Darcy was quite annoyed at having his right arm appropriated before he could stand clear of his chair or turn around, since it put him in a awkward position to offer his left arm to Miss Elizabeth, as had been his original intention. To achieve this, he stepped to his left, pulling Caroline with him and swinging her round.

That lady tottered on her heels. "Mr Darcy, you are precipitate!"

"Forgive me, Miss Bingley," he said quite unashamedly, "I did not realise you were attached."

Elizabeth buttoned her lip to avoid a chuckle as Mr Darcy offered her his left elbow.

Darcy proceeded to the drawing room with the two ladies, followed by Charles escorting Georgiana, and then the Gardiners with their arms intertwined. Louisa brought up the rear with her husband, who did not offer his arm to his wife, being too busy grumbling about Darcy's unorthodox manners in proceeding to the drawing room unoiled.

Darcy heartily wished that Charles would divest himself of his relations when visiting. But this, he realised to his chagrin, was only likely to occur once he was married, a ship which Darcy had recently scuttled.

Upon entering the drawing room, Darcy begged the ladies for some music, whereupon Caroline rushed to the harp.

During Caroline's virtuoso performance, Georgiana served tea, aided by Miss Elizabeth who distributed the cups. Darcy watched Miss Elizabeth's graceful movements while he sipped his tea, his enjoyment only marred by occasional notes from the harp which seem to reverberate in his teeth.

After finishing her piece and receiving her accolades with a brilliant smile, Miss Bingley implored Georgiana to sing and play, a request loudly seconded by her sister Louisa.

Miss Darcy loathed performing in company, but her brother happily suggested that Georgiana play while Miss Elizabeth sing. This suited both ladies. Miss Darcy was a superlative pianoforte player but had a weak voice, whereas Miss Elizabeth held her performance on the keyboard to be only passable.

The combination was so pleasing to Darcy that he believed he had never spent a more enjoyable half-hour in his life.

The hour of his guests' departure came way too soon for that gentleman.

As he handed Miss Elizabeth into the coach, he grasped her hand far longer and more tightly than was necessary, and bending down, whispered quickly near her ear. "I must confess that yesterday I rode on ahead of the party... to escape Miss Bingley."

Elizabeth gave him a brief wondering look and a small smile as she took her seat. She might have laughed, but she was far too perturbed by his proximity.

Then the carriage door was closed and they were off down the drive.

* * *

After his guests had retired, Darcy stole back down to the drawing-room and sat in the darkness surveying the pianoforte, imagining Miss Elizabeth singing there once more.

"Courage, man," he chided himself, then got up to seek slumber also.


	23. Wickham redux

Elizabeth was very thoughtful during the carriage ride back to the Rose and Crown. She could hardly believe in Mr Darcy's renewed attentions over the last two days: the possibility that such a steadfast man could exist amazed her. It seemed like a dream. _When would she wake?_

From the opposite seat of the carriage, Mrs Gardiner watched her introspective niece. _She has so much of her father in her. When will she talk?_

She turned to her husband. "Well, Mr Gardiner, I take you to one nice house and I find you with another lady in your lap!"

He chuckled. "I'm only glad that I was not previously acquainted with her manners, else I might have been terrified at the thought of having Boadicea in my lap!"

"It was quite a memorable event was it not?" mused Mrs Gardiner.

"Indeed," replied her husband, "I have never been a guest in a finer house, and Mr Darcy was so affable!"

"From what we have seen of him and from all we heard in the village today," continued Mrs Gardiner, "I am really inclined to disbelieve Wickham's account of him. He has not an ill-natured look. On the contrary, there is something pleasing about his mouth when he speaks. And there is something of dignity in his countenance that would not give one an unfavourable idea of his heart."

Mrs Gardiner then sought to engage Elizabeth's opinion on the topic but she would not be drawn. As they returned, they talked of all that had occurred during their visit, except what had particularly interested them all. The look and behaviour of everybody they had seen were discussed, except of the person who had mostly engaged their attention. They talked of his sister, his friends, his house, his fruit—of everything but himself.

Only when Elizabeth was alone in her bedchamber did she allow herself to think once more of him and Mr Darcy occupied her thoughts till she finally fell asleep. That night, Elizabeth dreamt she was sitting alone, embroidering, in Hunsford parsonage, when Mr Darcy stalked into the room. Snatching her embroidery hoop from her hands, he threw it aside, and grasping her in a fierce embrace, began to passionately kiss her.

Elizabeth knew she should protest but instead she plunged her fingers into his dishevelled locks and returned his kisses measure for measure.

* * *

The next morning, both Mrs Reynolds and Finn knew something was in the air. Darcy had asked Mrs Reynolds to pick a bouquet from the conservatory, and requested Finn to prepare him with extra care.

When Finn held out a maroon waistcoat with cream pinstripes, Darcy demurred.

"Good Lord, when did I acquire that?"

"Please sir, it will look just the thing with your black coat."

"Finn, you're trying to turn me into a dandy," laughed Darcy.

"With all respect, that would be impossible, sir."

Mrs Reynolds was laying the bouquet on the floor of the phaeton when Darcy emerged from the house.

He spent the trip from Pemberley to Lambton reciting to himself, "No arrogant words. No arrogant words."

Upon reaching the inn, Darcy descended from the phaeton, straightened his waistcoat, removed his hat, and ran his fingers through his hair. In a last minute crisis of confidence, he decided to leave the bouquet in the phaeton. He would ask her to walk out with him and retrieve the flowers afterwards if he was successful.

After requesting Miss Bennet, a servant pointed Darcy in direction of the parlour, where she had just gone with the morning mail.

He paused at the door to take a deep breath, but upon entering that room he found Elizabeth standing, sheet white, staring into space with a letter in her hand.

"Good God! what is the matter?" he blurted, with more feeling than politeness, before recollecting himself. "You are not well. Have you received bad news? Let me or the servant go after Mr and Mrs Gardiner. In which direction have they gone?"

Elizabeth hesitated, but her knees trembled under her.

Calling the servant, Darcy commissioned him to fetch the Gardiners back to the inn instantly.

On the servant's departure, Elizabeth sat down, unable to support herself, and looking miserably ill.

Darcy hovered uncertainly, "Let me call your maid. Is there nothing you could take to give you present relief? A glass of wine; shall I get you one? You are very ill."

"No, I thank you," she replied, endeavouring to recover herself. "There is nothing the matter with me. I am quite well; I am only distressed by some dreadful news which I have just received from Longbourn."

Seeing her so upset, Darcy instinctively clasped her hand, waiting for her to go on.

"I have just had a letter from Jane, with such dreadful news. It cannot be concealed from anyone. My younger sister has left all her friends—has eloped; has thrown herself into the power of—of Mr Wickham. They are gone off together from Brighton. You know him too well to doubt the rest. She has no money, no connections, nothing that can tempt him to—she is lost for ever."

Darcy froze and released Elizabeth's hand.

"When I consider," she added in a yet more agitated voice, "that I might have prevented it! I, who knew what he was. Had I but explained some part of it only—some part of what I learnt, to my own family! Had his character been known, this could not have happened. But it is all—all too late now."

"I am grieved indeed," cried Darcy; "grieved—shocked. But is it certain—absolutely certain?"

"Oh, yes! They left Brighton together on Sunday night, and were traced almost to London, but not beyond; they are certainly not gone to Scotland."

"And what has been done, what has been attempted, to recover her?"

"My father is gone to London, and Jane has written to beg my uncle's immediate assistance; and we shall be off, I hope, in half-an-hour. But nothing can be done—I know very well that nothing can be done. How is such a man to be worked on? How are they even to be discovered? I have not the smallest hope. It is in every way horrible!"

Darcy shook his head in silent acquiescence.

"When my eyes were opened to his real character—Oh! had I known what I ought, what I dared to do! But I knew not—I was afraid of doing too much. Wretched, wretched mistake!"

Darcy made no answer. He seemed scarcely to hear her, and was walking up and down the room in earnest meditation, his brow contracted, his air gloomy.

Then he stopped having come to a decision. "I am afraid you have been long desiring my absence, nor have I anything to plead in excuse of my stay, but real, though unavailing concern. Would to Heaven that anything could be either said or done on my part that might offer consolation to such distress! But I will not torment you with vain wishes, which may seem purposely to ask for your thanks. This unfortunate affair will, I fear, prevent my sister's having the pleasure of seeing you at Pemberley to-day."

"Oh, yes. Be so kind as to apologise for us to Miss Darcy. Say that urgent business calls us home immediately. Conceal the unhappy truth as long as it is possible, I know it cannot be long."

He readily assured her of his secrecy; again expressed his sorrow for her distress, wished it a happier conclusion than there was at present reason to hope, and leaving his compliments for her relations, with only one serious, parting look, went away.

As he stepped through the door, Elizabeth's distress for his sister veered to despair for herself. _That is it_, she thought. _I will never see him again._ It felt as if a pit had opened in her stomach.

Darcy mounted the phaeton in several smooth strides, and with a crack of his whip, took off hell for leather towards Pemberley, the bouquet lying forgotten on the carriage floor.


	24. Gretna, or not

Upon reaching Pemberley, Darcy ran up to his rooms, summoning Mrs Reynolds. His valet was still in his dressing room with a coat brush in his hand. "Finn, I'm sorry to do this to you, but I need to go back to London, as a matter of urgency. Can you pack a small valise for me now and follow me in the carriage when you can?"

Having followed the master upstairs, Mrs Reynolds walked in, catching the last bit of this speech. "You're not going back to London now Mr Darcy? You have barely arrived..."

He apologised, asked her to summon his groom, requested a packed hamper, enough for two for two days if possible, and sat down to write an express to Richard.

He was sealing it when his groom walked in. "Healy is my racing curricle fit to be driven?"

The groom raised his eyebrows. The master had not requested this vehicle since his Cambridge days. "Of course, sir, I take it out every week. "

"Then pole up a team and pack your things. I need to reach London as a matter of urgency. We'll share the driving."

Healy could only wonder at this singular request, but he wasn't complaining, it sounded like the best bit of sport that he'd had for years.

Upon delivering the tankard of ale and an apple the master had requested before departing for London, Mrs Reynolds contrived to bustle him into his sitting room. "Mr Darcy, you have me quite worried. May I request the nature of this emergency?"

"Fear not Mrs Reynolds, it is a mission of mercy, but no one is lying on their deathbed. I will apprise you of the circumstances when I can. Please look after Georgiana and my guests."

"Of course, Mr Darcy," she curtsied.

Charles was ushered in as she left. To that gentlemen, Darcy gave a fuller account of his mission, promising him to secrecy. Charles was all astonishment, but bore it with good grace and wished him Godspeed.

"Take care of Georgiana for me, Charles," he said as they shook hands.

Upon reaching the portico he found Finn and Mrs Reynolds disposing the luggage behind the seat. Taking his seat beside Healy, Darcy received the ribbons from him. Ordering the stableboys away from their heads, they were off down the drive with a crack of Darcy's whip.

The master had only sedately tooled himself and Georgiana around the park in his phaeton for years, but he took the first bend in style and when he caught the whip thong over his head on the straight out of Lambton, he and Healy were grinning like devils.


	25. Complications

"Have you heard from Richard?" he enquired as his butler took his coat in the front hall of Darcy House.

"He sent word he would attend you this evening, sir."

"Very well, I will rest until then. Wake me if necessary when Richard arrives."

In the event, a simple knock on his bedchamber door sufficed. Darcy was too tightly coiled to be able to sleep, despite his exhaustion.

Pulling on his coat he hastened to meet Richard in his study, where he found him pacing up and down.

"So who is the lady involved and why do you feel it necessary to intervene?" asked Richard.

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet's youngest sister."

"Ah well, that answers both questions doesn't it? Do I guess too much, or did you propose to Miss Elizabeth at Hunsford?"

"Was I that obvious?"

Richard shrugged. "I gather also that Miss Elizabeth turned you down, and this had something to do with Wickham?"

"He told her a pack of lies."

"The bastard..." Richard paced some more, then turned decisively, "What have you done so far?"

"Nothing, I wanted to discuss my plan with you first."

"Good, but first there is something that you need to know."

"Now?"

"Yes, now. Perhaps you'd like to sit down."

Darcy sat. "Well?"

"Would you like a drink?"

"Just get on with it."

"Very well, Wickham's your brother."

The tension was so thick you could have cut it. Darcy was paler than Richard had ever seen him.

Darcy closed his eyes, "Good Lord, will it never end!"

Finally he looked up at Richard.

"Where did you come by this information?"

"My father told me. I was discussing the problems that you've had with Wickham..."

"Are you certain papa is his father? There can be no mistake?"

"Uncle George confessed to dad on his deathbed. My father had suspected it for years..."

The silence seemed to stretch to eternity.

"All these years I thought my father above reproach ...I tried to model myself on what I saw as his impossible perfection..."

"You must not be too hard on him Darcy. It was before he married your mother. Wickham's mother was a tigress. Cornered my father as well when he visited Pemberley."

"So what did he do?"

"What he usually did. Made sure there was no issue...so to speak ..."

They lapsed again into silence.

"Now I finally understand."

"The source of Wickham's moral lapses?"

"No Wickham's hatred of me, he thinks he should be the heir..."


	26. To catch a cad

Darcy knew that Mrs Younge had started a boarding house after being dismissed from his employ following the Ramsgate incident. Employed as a companion to Georgiana, she had conspired with Wickham in the planned elopement. He knew that Wickham was somehow involved with Mrs Younge, and suspected he might have sought refuge in London with her. Though it took several days to locate Mrs Younge's boarding house, a bit of largesse distributed to urchins around her establishment had confirmed that Wickham and Lydia were likely staying there.

Upon arriving, Darcy went to the front door, Richard's batman went to the back, while Richard stationed himself so as to keep his eye on both the side of the house that faced the street, and Darcy at the front door. Richard could see that Darcy didn't seem to be getting anywhere with Mrs Younge. She hadn't even invited him inside.

While Richard was standing there in his regimentals, a girl came to an upper window. She was a buxom wench, clad only in a chemise, who bore a distinct resemblance to Miss Elizabeth Bennet... It could be none other than her sister. She had seen him, and rather than drawing away from the window, she stood there unbashedly giving him a quizzical stare. He had the happy thought of giving her a flirtatious wave. She returned it and turned to say something over her shoulder. Then Wickham appeared at the window. The Colonel gave him a cheery wave also, whereupon Wickham swore and bolted.

Richard looked around. Darcy was still at the front door. He heard his batman give a yell, and he ran to the back to assist. He found Wickham in his shirtsleeves, stretched out on the ground. His batman stood over him, shaking his right hand. "What a handy bunch of fives you have Higgins," grinned the Colonel.

* * *

After they slung Wickham's inert body into a job cart, Higgins took him back to the barracks to have him clapped in irons. The colonel headed inside to check on Darcy. To his surprise he found him sitting despondently in the parlour.

"What gives?"

"Have you incarcerated that rascal?"

"He's on his way back to the barracks to await my pleasure. Where's Miss Bennet's sister?"

"Aye, there's the rub. She's upstairs and refuses to leave. She wants her darling restored to her."

"So they _are_ married?"

"Of course not, tho' she expects it any day," he said rolling his eyes. "I have begged her to think of her family, but she refuses to budge until she sees her Wickie."

"Let me have a go," said the colonel. "What's her name?"

Half an hour later, he descended with a smiling Lydia, dressed to the nines, on one arm; and two band boxes in the other. "Coming Darce?" he said with a grin.

* * *

After delivering Lydia to the Gardiners, Darcy promised to return on the morrow to discuss the situation.

He descended the steps to join Richard in the carriage.

"So what did you say to dislodge Lydia?"

"Oh, a load of horseshit. Lord knows why you thought reading her a sermon would work after she ran off with Wickham in the first place."

"Disguise of every sort is my abhorrence," Darcy said coolly.


	27. The unsinkable Lydia Bennet

After delivering Elizabeth back to Longbourn, and staying long enough to be apprised of the latest developments with regard to Lydia, the Gardiners collected their children and headed back to London.

Upon their arrival in the evening, Edward Gardiner immediately sought out his brother-in-law at his hotel, and convinced him to quit the place for the more comfortable Gardiner home.

After dinner, Mr Bennet apprised Mr Gardiner of the details of his fruitless search for his daughter. Mr Gardiner was shocked at how tired Mr Bennet looked, and privately thought that his scheme of enquiring at the more genteel hotels for the wayward couple was unlikely to be successful. Mr Gardiner convinced Mr Bennet that he could best help his family by returning to Longbourn to support his wife's spirits. He promised to continue searching for Lydia himself.

The dispirited Mr Bennet accepted gratefully and left in the Gardiners' travelling coach the next morning. Shortly after, Mr Gardiner set off in his gig for the posting houses serving the Southern Road from Brighton, using the information Mr Bennet had received from Colonel Forster.

On the first day he had the good luck to encounter the same post boy who had escorted their coach to London, lounging at an inn waiting for a return journey. He described Wickham's militia uniform and Lydia's blue hat with its white ostrich plume accurately. They had left the coach on foot in the vicinity of St Clements.

In preparation for a foot searching the next day, Mrs Gardiner made several coloured sketches of the couple. Aided by this and his two footmen, Mr Gardiner knew he still had a huge task in front of him, scouring such a populous area.

Mrs Gardiner was busy supervising housework when she heard the knocker shortly before lunchtime. She was astonished to be handed Mr Darcy's card by the maid who had answered the door.

"Lydia!" she cried upon reaching the front door.

"Hello aunt, can you lend me some money for my bride clothes? I spent the last I had on the post chaise for London."

Mrs Gardiner looked between Lydia and Mr Darcy in confusion.

"May I have a private word, Mrs Gardiner?" asked Darcy, removing his hat and stepping inside.

"Of course, Mr Darcy. Lydia take your things to the blue room. I will be with you shortly."

"Please step into the parlour, Mr Darcy."

"Thank you, Mrs Gardiner," he said as she closed the door behind them.

"My husband is out searching for Lydia, Mr Darcy. How on earth did you come to find her?"

"I know Mr Wickham's haunts, Mrs Gardiner. I currently have him under lock and key."

"Lock and key?" she gasped. "Then I take it that he is unwilling to marry her?"

"He will do what is required. I would like to speak to your husband. Is Mr Bennet with him?"

"No, my husband convinced him to return to Hertfordshire yesterday."

"That suits my purposes well, Mrs Gardiner. May I return tomorrow to speak with him?"

"Of course, Mr Darcy we will await your visit, and thank you for restoring our niece to us."

* * *

Mrs Gardiner hastened upstairs upon Darcy's departure.

She found Lydia hanging her dresses in the cupboard.

"Lydia, what possessed you to run away with that man?"

"Oh Aunt, isn't it exciting? I always dreamt of an elopement! When can we choose the bride clothes?"

"Lydia one chooses the bride clothes before going off with the man, not the other way round."

"It was so romantic! Wickie had brought me the sweetest bouquet, and we had a post chaise with four horses!...although mostly I had to pay for that."

"Where have you been staying?"

"Oh, in a sweet room with Wickie's friend Mrs Younge. She was ever so nice."

"So you shared a room with Mrs Younge? Not with Mr Wickham?"

"Oh aunt, you are so droll! Of course, I stayed with Mr Wickham, that is what married couples do!"

Mrs Gardiner rubbed her temples. This conversation couldn't be sillier. She called for a pot of tea and took Lydia downstairs to continue the interrogation.


	28. The ethics of Wickham

At the townhouse, Darcy and Richard were raking over the days events over yet _more_ brandy.

"There's still something I don't understand," said Darcy. "Why did he abscond with Lydia in the first place?"

"He had debts. He decided to flee. Debtor's prison will be a good place for him."

"Why take a gentleman's daughter? He's never done anything like that before."

Richard spluttered, "Are you forgetting your sister?"

"At least, he hadn't touched her. I'm sure his sole object was her dowry."

"One can only hope, but don't attempt to understand him, his morals and yours are poles apart."

Richard refilled the glasses, "Given your history with Miss Elizabeth Bennet, blackmail seems the likely motive."

Darcy blanched. _How could Wickham have known of his relationship with Miss Elizabeth Bennet? Could Miss Elizabeth had boasted of his failed proposal to her sister? Or worse...Oh please, no...to Wickham?_

He felt like the stuffing have been knocked out of him. He had thought her more noble than that...

They sat in silence for some time before he wrenched his mind back to the more immediate problem.

"How can I send my brother to prison?"

"Think of him not as your brother, but as your father's son. It seems quite simple to me: he's on the wrong side of the blanket and you're not."

"Legally? Yes. Morally…"

A log fell out of the grate.

"Wickham may be jealous of me, but I realise I'm jealous of him. He is my father's namesake, whereas I am named for my mother. My father's affection was what I wanted most dearly. George had it, and I did not. I do not want to make an emotional decision based on my jealousy."

Richard kicked the log back in with his boot. "I think you're wrong about your father's feelings." He got up, grabbed the poker, and started attacking the relict flames with vigour. "Why do you think your father destined Wickham for the church?"

"He wanted to provide a living for him, a means of supporting himself as a gentleman."

"Sure...but why the church?"

"As the income is associated with Pemberley, it was at his disposal..."

"True, but your father _could_ also have bought him a commission in the army..."

"Perhaps he thought it would reform him?"

Richard scoffed, "Perhaps, ...or maybe his choice of career for Wickham had more to do with his own expiation?"

"What do you mean?" said Darcy.

"Why do you think your father behaved so unreasonably towards you about the maid?"

"Because he thought I was responsible."

"Do you suppose he was thinking very clearly? He didn't even give you a chance to defend yourself."

There was a long silence, then Darcy finally replied, "I suppose I haven't been thinking very clearly about it either."

"Regret is a powerful emotion. He wasn't just beating you, he was beating himself."

Silence again fell and Richard poured more brandy.

"We digress..." said Richard. "If you are determined to spare him debtor's prison, you are best keeping him in the army where I can fix my beady eye upon him."

"I will sleep on it," said Darcy, "hopefully the morning will bring more clarity. I meet Mr Gardiner early tomorrow. Once we have come to a decision, I'll send word to the barracks."


	29. Judgement day

Upon returning to Gracechurch street in the morning, Mr Gardiner led Mr Darcy to his study for a council of war. Should Wickham be frogmarched to the altar, sent to debtor's prison, or flogged for desertion? Darcy thought all three would be a nice start...

Mr Gardiner sat down. "My wife has spoken to Lydia. She has been compromised."

"The state we found them in suggested that," replied Darcy gently.

"Marriage to _someone_ is the only solution. Unfortunately Lydia insists that Wickham is that someone. Are his debts very large?"

"They are considerably more than a thousand pounds."

Mr Gardiner winced. "What sort of dowry does he expect and how will they live thereafter? Surely his militia regiment will not take him back?"

"No, I'm proposing to buy him a commission in the regulars. The commission is more expensive, but the pay is better than the militia."

"How much is the commission, and what other setup costs are involved?"

"You need not concern yourself, Mr Gardiner. I am proposing to cover these costs."

"With all respect, Mr Darcy, why should you do that?"

"Mr Wickham is my father's godson, Mr Gardiner."

"That may be, Mr Darcy, but he has been imprudent enough to run off with my niece with hardly a feather to fly with. A man of his expensive habits is going to want satisfaction from the bride's family."

"Mr Gardiner, I feel somewhat responsible for the situation. My father left provision for Wickham in his will. He intended to bestow a living upon him, but after the funeral Wickham approached me, requesting a lump sum in lieu: a wish I foolishly granted him. My primary aim in doing so, was to divest myself of any further association with him. I must admit that decision has come back to bite me several times. No more. I must manage the situation better. Wickham will have his career as an ensign in the regulars."

Mr Gardiner nodded.

"With regard to your niece, I feel I ought to have made the nature of his character discretely known to society in Meryton. I was received there with politeness and should have paid back the civility appropriately."

"Well I am in no situation to argue with you, Mr Darcy. I propose that we get them up the aisle without delay, but you will have to let me make a contribution on behalf of my brother Bennet. There is his pride to consider."

"Excellent, we are in agreement. I will apply for a special license, arrange the commission, and prepare the marriage settlement."

"Thank you, Mr Darcy I do not know what we would have done without you."

* * *

A message arrived at the barracks for Colonel Fitzwilliam shortly after lunch.

After Wickham was released from irons, the Colonel hauled him by his collar into a room.

"I haven't had anything to drink all day," croaked Wickham.

"Dear, dear, I'd better talk to the Sgt at Arms, we can't have any deaths in the yard."

When a dirty mug of ale was placed in front of him, Wickham eyed it askance.

"Drink up," said Richard as he slammed the door, "or I'll drink it for you."

He paced up and down a couple of times with a scowl on his face.

"Lieutenant Wickham, desertion is a _very_ serious offence."

"I didn't desert. It was a misunderstanding."

"Tell that to Colonel Forster. His wife's friend seems to be missing from his household..."

Picking up a riding crop, Richard began to stroke it ruminatively.

"So... we have several options: we could have you flogged and thrown into debtors prison; we could have you flogged and sent to the colonies; or... you could marry the _charming_ Miss Lydia Bennet."

"I'm not marrying that little trollop. I'll consider the Americas, a gentleman of my talents could live well enough there."

"No, no, that is _way_ too close. I was thinking more of the antipodes, say, New South Wales."

"I'm not going to that hellhole."

Richard pulled a note from his pocket and pretended to read it.

"Well... fortunately for you, kinder people than me have decided your fate. You are to be a happy husband."

"I will not shackle myself to a nobody."

"Ah well, you should've thought of that before you ran off with her."

"So you were only toying with me."

"This isn't Astley's amphitheatre, Lieutenant Wickham. One has to take one's entertainment where one can. I'm sure we can still manage the flogging if you are dissatisfied with the outcome. Keep that in mind for the future."


	30. Confession

Darcy was going over a draft of Wickham's marriage settlement in his study when the Earl was announced. He stood up in surprise to greet his uncle, who rarely visited Darcy house, though he lived across the square. Generally he encountered that gentleman in his own domicile.

"Uncle, to what do I have the pleasure?"

His uncle hobbled across the room using his stick, but did not sit. Clearly, his gout was troubling him.

"Nephew, I understand that Richard has apprised you of the situation with Wickham. I have a letter for you which your father dictated to me on his deathbed. I had hoped to keep this letter undelivered. But of course, you must have it now."

The earl could see the tears pooling in Darcy's eyes as he held out the letter. He was not a man of much emotional depth and he disliked being confronted with other men's emotions, though female tears disturbed him not a whit.

As Darcy took the letter in a trembling hand, the earl clapped him on his back, saying, "Look after yourself, son." He then left the study with as much haste as his condition would allow.

Darcy sat down shakily in the nearest chair and broke the seal.

_Dear son,_

_If you are reading this, than you have discovered the indiscretion that has blighted my life._

_Sophia Wickham was sent to tempt me and I failed sorely._

_I could not help but love George, he was such a sweet and easy child. It was only as he got older that his flaws became apparent. Always the easy way for George._

_It seems like fate that you each resemble your own mother in temperament._

_Your dear mother, Fitzwilliam, was everything that is gracious and noble. Only her unswerving love stopped me from being swallowed by my remorse. The love of a good woman is worth more than anything else in this world._

_Look after your brother if you can Fitzwilliam, but do not let him ruin your life._

_I am very proud of you._

_Your loving father, George_

A single tear escaped Darcy's lashes and ran down one cheek. Thus it was decided. Darcy would stand up with Wickham in church.


	31. Oranges and Lemons

The day of Lydia's wedding to Wickham dawned. Lydia was effervescent. She wore a beautiful new shell pink gown. Although she had originally been determined on white, her aunt had cleverly pointed out how well the pink complemented her dark chestnut locks. Several seamstresses had burnt much wax getting the dress ready on time.

The bride's party arrived at St Clements in a beautiful landau her uncle had hired for the day. Her aunt hurried inside, returning briefly to signal her husband that all was ready, before proceeding to her pew.

Lydia announced her presence at the church door by exclaiming "Lord, where is everyone!" on perceiving the largely empty pews, a statement which echoed round the deserted interior. On the bride's side was her aunt, her dear friend Harriet, and Colonel Forster; while on the groom's side stood Denny and Chamberlayne, accompanied, bizarrely, by Mr Darcy.

Little did she know that the guests had attended only after a special petition by Mr Gardiner to Colonel Forster. Such was the Colonel's wrath with ex-Lieutenant Wickham that, upon receiving the invitation, he had declared himself rather buggered than attend the ceremony, though not within earshot of his young wife. Similarly all members of the regiment have been banned from attending. Nonetheless, Mr Gardiner had prevailed upon him to provide countenance, both for his niece's sake and the regiment's.

Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam had similarly declined to attend, though Higgins had been tempted to turn up as a joke, wishing to survey his handiwork. No one noticed that the groom had a chipped front tooth, the result of Higgins' wisty castor. Indeed, Wickham had spent a good half hour in front of a mirror practising a new way of smiling that hid the defect.

But all was forgot when the man at the altar turned to reveal himself as her dear Wickham, though who else she thought would be awaiting her there is anyone's guess. Perhaps his appearance there in the previously unseen dress uniform of his new regiment momentarily confused her. He was indeed a very handsome groom.

He flashed her a winning smile, which she eclipsed with an ebullient one. She would have dashed down the aisle to him at that point had her uncle not restrained her. As they proceeded faster than decorum dictated to the altar, Mr Gardiner was forcibly reminded of a large dog he had owned as a child. He clasped Lydia's arm tightly, slowing her progress, and could only be grateful for the carpet which allowed him some purchase for his new shoes.

Wickham spoke his responses with grace and Lydia with enthusiasm, and then Darcy stepped up to hand over the ring which he had extracted from the Darcy hoard. It was a large flawed emerald in a ridiculously elaborate setting which Darcy thought particularly hideous. But Lydia was suitably impressed and yelled out, "Oh Wickie, it's beautiful!", so loudly that the curate flinched.

Then they were off down the aisle and into the landau, bound for Grillon's, which Darcy had booked for a week for their honeymoon. This was more for Darcy's sensibilities than anything else, as he couldn't bear the thought of Wickham spending a night at Longbourn under the same roof as Miss Elizabeth. The couple would instead only lunch there in a sennight, before departing for Newcastle where Wickham's new regiment was stationed.

* * *

Mrs Wickham was disappointed on her wedding night when her husband stepped out, ostensibly to purchase a celebratory cigar, and did not return until near dawn. Having spent the night drinking and gambling, he was well sozzled when he finally returned to his new bride seeking repose. But that enterprising lady used her stockings to tie him to the bedposts as he slept and thus spent the rest of her honeymoon agreeably enough.


	32. The circus comes to town

Reading Mr Gardiner's express, Mr Bennet was greatly embarrassed by the small sum requested to secure Lydia's future. He was sure that it was not one 10th of the sum that had actually changed hands on his behalf. He wished that he had put away an annual sum from his income towards a rainy day, but Mrs Bennet had insisted that every frill and furbelow bought for her daughters was an investment in their future.

On receiving a second communication requesting permission to visit from the happy couple, Mr Bennet was indignant.

"She is your daughter, Papa," pleaded Jane.

"Papa, it will dampen the rumours if it is known we received him," argued Elizabeth.

Strangely, on this occasion, Jane's pleas seem to work far better than Elizabeth's logic.

* * *

On the appointed day, the happy couple descended from the carriage without the least embarrassment. Mrs Bennet effused, Mary scowled, Kitty clasped her hands together - unsure whether to be envious or happy for her sister, Elizabeth and Jane did not know which way to look, and Mr Bennet surveyed it all with a sardonic air.

Mrs Bennet managed to plant a kiss on her handsome son-in-law's face by wrestling him down to her level with the froggings of his jacket.

"Oh Lydia, Lydia!" exclaimed Mrs Bennet, "how we have missed you!"

"La!" said Lydia, "We have been far too merry to miss any of you."

Entering the house she pushed in front of her sisters saying, "No Jane, I take your place now because _I_ am a married woman."

Upon sitting down to lunch and the dishes being placed on the board, Lydia quite brazenly flourished her ring as she helped herself to the potatoes.

"Lydia that is an amazing ring," said Miss Elizabeth quite astonished at the sheer size of it.

"Is it not? Wickie's great grandmother was a French countess! It was bequeathed to him on her death!"

Jane and Elizabeth exchanged glances at this speech, and sought Mr Wickham's reaction to it. That gentleman was focused on watching Kitty examine and exclaim at the ring.

Thus it continued, Wickham pulled out his usual easy charm, smiling upon his wife who chattered at a mile a minute.

After lunch, Mr Bennet, fed up with the whole performance, cited some business in the stables as an excuse to depart. To his annoyance, Wickham jumped up and declared his intention to assist. After skulking around the stables checking tack and horses hooves while Mr Wickham talked as if they were the best of friends, Mr Bennet concluded that one could not underestimate the impudence of an impudent man.

Meanwhile, the ladies strolled out to the shrubbery while Lydia regaled them with a description of her wedding.

"We were married, you know, at St. Clement's, because Wickham's lodgings were in that parish. And it was settled that we should all be there by eleven o'clock. My uncle and aunt and I were to go together; and the others were to meet us at the church. And there was my aunt, all the time I was dressing, preaching and talking away just as if she was reading a sermon. However, I did not hear above one word in ten, for I was thinking, as you may suppose, of my dear Wickie."

"I didn't have anywhere near the amount of time I wanted to prepare my bride clothes, and the invitations were handled remarkably ill. I would have thought that some of you could at least have made the journey, regardless of the expense. Harriet and the Colonel came, but only Danny and Chamberlayne could be spared from the regiment. So they and Mr Darcy were the only ones on the groom's side..."

"Mr. Darcy!" repeated Elizabeth, in utter amazement.

"Oops!" said Lydia putting her hand up to her mouth. "I forgot I wasn't to say a word! He was the one who came to our lodgings and dragged me off to my aunt's before the wedding. Although he did have a rather dashing friend with him. Then he kept turning up at Aunt Gardiner's to spy on me. I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised to see him at the wedding as well. Anyway, here comes Wickie, so don't say a word."

Wickham rejoined the sisters in the shrubbery, and they declared their intention of walking as far as the copse.

Returning from this jaunt, Elizabeth fell behind to escape her sister's effusions. _Why was Mr Darcy at her sister's wedding?_ To her consternation she found that Mr Wickham had turned and dropped behind as well.

"And so, my dear sister, I find, from our uncle and aunt, that you have actually seen Pemberley."

"Indeed, I toured Derbyshire with them in the summer."

"And you saw the old housekeeper, I suppose? Poor Reynolds, she was always very fond of me."

"Yes, she showed us a very pleasing miniature of you. She said you were gone into the army, and she was afraid had—not turned out well. But, at such a distance as that, you know, things are strangely misrepresented."

Wickham rubbed the back of his neck.

"Did you see Mr Darcy while you were at Pemberley?" he said changing tack. "I thought I understood from the Gardiners that you had met him?"

She nodded in reply.

"I was surprised to see him in town last month," he continued. "We passed each other several times. I wonder what he can be doing there."

"Perhaps preparing for the wedding," said Elizabeth innocently.

Wickham looked at her sharply.

"... with Miss de Bourgh," she continued smoothly.

Wickham bit his lips. "Did you meet his sister?"

"Yes; he introduced us to her. She seemed a very nice girl."

"I have heard, indeed, that she is uncommonly improved within this year or two from last I saw her. I am very glad you liked her."

"Very much. We had an enlightening conversation on the relative merits of the seaside resorts of Brighton and Ramsgate. They seem to have much in common."

Wickham flushed and Elizabeth was glad to see that finally something had managed to get under his skin.

He stopped and leant closer to her. "Your sister is a shameless hussy and she is wearing me out," he whispered.

Elizabeth was rather taken aback by this intimacy but was not to be cowed.

"If she was not a shameless hussy, she would not have run off with you in the first place. But I do find that a _truly_ ironic statement Mr Wickham: a case of the pot calling the kettle black?"

They walked on in silence for a moment.

"Come come Mr Wickham, we are brother and sister now, let us not argue. You made your bed..." she twinkled.

Mr Wickham could only wonder at the effrontery of these Bennet ladies.

And thus to the relief of many the happy couple departed for Newcastle.


	33. Sorry

Thus after a whirlwind fortnight, Darcy's thoughts returned to his much neglected guests at Pemberley. Foremost in his mind was the much delayed and unpleasant task of confessing to Bingley his erroneous estimation of Jane Bennet's heart and his role in keeping the lovers apart. He knew that he had caused his friend considerable grief, so with a heavy heart he wended his way back to Derbyshire, unsure if their friendship would survive the revelation.

Georgiana was more than pleased to welcome her brother home. She'd had a difficult fortnight entertaining the Bingleys. Caroline had been in high dudgeon since discovering her prey had escaped the net. She'd spent her time ordering the servants about, changing the menus and reorganising the furniture in the parlour. Georgiana didn't particularly care for doing any of these things, they generally fell to Mrs Reynolds lot, but she certainly resented having her position usurped.

When Darcy finally put his boot down on Pemberley soil again, there were but four days left 'til the Bingleys were due to depart to Scarborough. As he thought it likely his information would change Charles' plans, Darcy decided to get it over and done with as quickly as possible.

Shortly after he had washed off the dust from the road, Darcy invited Charles to his study.

"Darcy, old man it's good to see you again. Thank God you were able to find them and get them to the altar. I don't know what that fellow must have been thinking to do such a thing."

"Yes, you and the Colonel of his regiment."

Darcy gestured to a chair near the fireplace.

"Sit down, Bingley. I've poured you some brandy."

"It's only 4 o'clock Darcy," said Charles, but he took the glass regardless.

"Charles, I have a confession to make. I believe I may have been mistaken in my estimation of Miss Bennet's regard for you."

Charles' eyes had taken on a weird sheen. "You discovered this at the wedding?"

"No Charles, I've known it for some time. Miss Elizabeth Bennet revised my opinion in Kent. Apparently the elder Miss Bennet isn't very demonstrative."

"Well she seemed demonstrative enough to me..."

"Alas, there is more..."

"More?"

"I neglected to tell you that Miss Bennet sought you out in London."

"Sought me out? So, she came to your townhouse in London?"

"No Charles, she came to Hurst's townhouse in London. I just happened to be there at the time."

"How is it that I was not informed?"

"We thought it best not to tell you, Charles."

"I assume _we_ means you and my sisters?"

Darcy nodded.

"Goddamnit Darcy! Why am I to be treated as a child?"

"I'm sorry Charles, I thought I had your best interests at heart."

"You thought?"

"I thought Miss Bennet was a fortune hunter, based largely on her mother's loud pronouncements at public gatherings. Miss Elizabeth disabused me of this notion in Kent."

"But why are you only telling me this now?"

"I must admit Charles that I've developed similar feelings for her sister. I'm thinking of going back to Hertfordshire..."

Again there was silence.

Then Bingley jumped up. "Well, what are we waiting for?"

* * *

Darcy convinced Bingley to wait a few more days until the Hurst's were ready to depart for Scarborough. He tried to be a good host for the remainder of their stay. This mainly involved polite conversation with Caroline whilst keeping a piece of furniture between them, much in the style of "cat and mouse."

On the day of the departure, the luggage were loaded onto the Hurst's travelling carriage. Charles handed his sisters inside, next to an already sleeping Hurst. He then shut the door, rapped on the body of the carriage with his stick, and waved as they headed off down the driveway.

"Charles!" yelled Caroline sticking her head out of the window. "What on earth are you doing?"

"Enjoy yourself in Scarborough, Caroline," returned a smiling Charles.

"Touché," murmured Darcy.

An hour later Charles and Darcy departed for Hertfordshire in the racing curricle. Healy was only a trifle jealous when he let go of the horse's heads.

* * *

Author's note: Cat and mouse game. Picture Caroline and Darcy here.

Check out **Game "cat and mouse" **by** Dechko Dechev** on YouTube.

You'll find the link on my profile.

Would work better if they were in Regency costume:)


	34. The proposal

The trip to Hertfordshire had started off as a jovial road trip with Darcy showing Bingley how to tool the curricle, but their journey had degenerated into tense silence by the time they reached Netherfield.

The closer Bingley got to Hertfordshire, the more conscious he became of the time that had elapsed since he had last danced with his angel on the 26th of November, and the more worried he became that someone might have stolen his angel in his absence.

Darcy's initial determination to pick up with Miss Elizabeth where he had left off in Derbyshire had wavered as he sifted the knowledge he had gained over last two weeks. The fates seem to be playing with him, first throwing her in his path, then drawing him back from the precipice of declaring himself again. _She seemed receptive in Derbyshire, but perhaps she was just being polite? Could he once again be ascribing his own feelings to her? Had he been overly relieved at the lack of vitriol? And what of Wickham's knowledge of their relationship? Was she superficially polite and secretly mocking him?_

After an uneasy night at Netherfield, they breakfasted and Bingley, champing at the bit, dragged a nervous but stoic Darcy to the horses that had been led out.

Dismounting at Longbourn, and handing his reins to the lackey, Darcy perceived one of the Bennet sisters at a window, but it was not _her. Ah yes, it was the other one, Lydia's shadow._

As they walked towards the portico, the words drifted down.

"It's Mr Bingley! And that horrible man is with him, what's his name?"

A more prim voice added, "It is Mr Darcy."

_Well I suppose I deserved that... Will my behaviour at the Meryton assembly haunt me for the rest of my life?_

As they entered the sitting room, he scanned the occupants, three sisters... _she_ was not there.

Mrs Bennet rushed towards Bingley.

"Mr Bingley you are _very, very_ welcome."

That gentleman doffed his hat. "Mrs Bennet, how good it is to see you!"

"It is far too long since you were here, Mr Bingley. I am delighted you have returned to Netherfield!" she effused, casting a significant glance at Jane.

Her eldest daughter blushed and looked at her lap.

"And Mr Darcy..," she said finally turning to him, "You are welcome too," she added very formally.

Darcy nodded stiffly as the veiled insult slid over him.

An uncomfortable silence was broken when Hill hurried in with the tea tray.

"Has Miss Elizabeth walked out, Mrs Bennet?" Darcy ventured.

"No, no, Mr Darcy, she is gadding about the country as usual, first Kent then Derbyshire, and now she must to London!"

She then proceeded on a long-winded description of Lydia's wedding while Mr Darcy shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

It was a great relief to all her listeners when the last crumbs of seed cake were disposed of, and, with a significant glance at Jane, Mrs Bennet suggested a walk in the shrubbery.

While the ladies collected their bonnets, Darcy suggested a plan.

"Bingley, I must have speech with Miss Bennet."

Bingley raised his eyebrows at this.

"I must ask of Miss Elizabeth, but I need privacy."

"Of course, Darcy," he said slightly bewildered.

Upon descending onto the back lawn, Darcy offered Miss Bennet his arm. "Could I persuade you to take a turn in the wilderness with me, Miss Bennet?"

She acquiesced in confusion.

"Miss Mary, Miss Kitty I have a great notion to see the rose garden!" cried Bingley offering his arms, and heading off in the other direction.

After he had walked a sufficient distance with Jane in silence, Mr Darcy started.

"I had hoped to see your sister today, Miss Bennet."

"Yes!" replied Jane, "she mentioned that you met in Kent and Derbyshire. 'Tis a pity she missed you. Elizabeth is spending time in London helping with the Gardiner children. She had originally planned to stay with them directly after the trip to Derbyshire, as a thank you. But that plan was overset by Lydia's...wedding. She was very happy to receive a letter from our aunt renewing the invitation after Lydia and her husband left for Newcastle."

"Our meeting in Kent...You are very coy, Miss Bennet. No doubt she told you of my rejected suit."

Jane stopped dead and released Darcy's arm.

He turned to find her mouth hanging open in shock.

"You did not know?" he asked incredulously.

She shook her head silently.

He brought his hand up to cover his eyes briefly. "Then it seems likely she told Wickham directly," he murmured.

Then assuming his customary mask, he begged pardon, bowed to Miss Bennet and bid her a hasty good day.

* * *

Bingley looked up from his tour of the rose garden to see Darcy striding alone across the lawn. Wending his way to the wilderness with Mary and Kitty, he found his angel standing alone in deep contemplation.

_She might have descended that moment from heaven!_

Stepping up to her, he prepared himself for the most important speech of his life, and sensing this moment, the two other sisters quietly spirited themselves away.

* * *

Returning from Netherfield in a triumphant mood, Bingley sought out his friend and found him three parts disguised in the library.

"Well?" Darcy asked.

"Yes!" jumped Bingley, "She said yes!"

Pushing the brandy he had been drinking to the side, Darcy produced a bottle of champagne.

"Congratulations, my friend," Darcy said. "I wish you every happiness."

Darcy retired that night with a heavy heart. He saw a life of loneliness stretching ahead of him as his disreputable brother's shepherd. The notion sat heavily on his stomach, like a poorly digested meal, but it might also have been the combination of champagne, brandy and seed cake.

At dawn, Darcy departed Netherfield for London, leaving his friend to woo his bride.


	35. Sisters

Elizabeth returned from London when Jane wrote with her happy tidings. She sat in her father's carriage, completing the last leg of the journey from St Albans to Longbourn, contemplating that enigmatic man, Fitzwilliam Darcy. Several days ago, upon receiving Jane's letter, Elizabeth had realised that, in her mind, Darcy's redemption was complete. She had built up a false picture of him, shored up with her own hurt vanity. He was basically a good man. He had faults, but more importantly, he struggled to improve his character: A quality so often lacking in the Quality. She smiled to herself at her epigram.

The trip to her aunt had not been entirely successful. Under the guise of looking after the children, Elizabeth had spent many hours talking to her aunt trying to understand her situation. She could still only wonder at Mr Darcy's involvement with Lydia's wedding. She had assumed when he left her so precipitately at Lambton that he wished to dissociate himself from her family. But his involvement with the recovery of Lydia, and the restoration of her family's social status, suggested otherwise.

_What had he said that day? That he did not want to raise false hopes? Perhaps he had been talking of the search for Lydia rather than her own marital prospects..._

She could not rely on her memory of that day. She had been too overwrought...

Her application to her aunt for more information had only partially enlightened her. Not only had Mr Darcy discovered Lydia, but delivered her to her Uncle's house, and arranged the entire wedding. Everything that needed to be done, he had insisted on doing himself. Her aunt thought his reasons for doing so were obscure. He had claimed that it was owing to him, to his reserve and want of proper consideration, that Mr Wickham's character had been so misunderstood, and consequently that he had been received and noticed in Hertfordshire.

It was then that her aunt had raised her suspicions that Elizabeth had not been entirely forthcoming about her relationship with Mr Darcy, based on her observations of the couple in Derbyshire. Elizabeth admitted that Mr Darcy had shown her particular attention in Kent, but that they had parted without an understanding, largely due to misinformation supplied by Mr Wickham in Hertfordshire.

Thus it was with some relief that she received Jane's happy tidings and could escape further scrutiny by returning home.

On the afternoon of her return, Mrs Bennet received Elizabeth with more consideration than she had enjoyed since the debacle of Mr Collins' proposal. With husbands for two of her daughters secured, Mrs Bennet's graciousness had increased daily and her nervous spasms declined.

During the day, Jane also uncharacteristically bubbled over with happiness, but in the evening she became more subdued as she brushed Elizabeth's hair.

"Lizzy, the day Mr Bingley returned I also spoke to Mr Darcy. He told me he had proposed to you, and that you rejected his offer. Why did you not tell me?"

Elizabeth looked down at her hands.

"I'm so sorry Jane. I know it seems like a breach of sisterly trust, but Mr Darcy and I had a terrible row. I was so ashamed of my behaviour. I know you would have handled it better. But aside from my mortification, our dispute partly concerned you and Mr Bingley. I did not feel that any good could come of speaking of it, that you would only be further hurt."

"Oh Lizzy, I do hope you did not argue because of me," said Jane.

"Be calm Jane. Now that things have worked out so happily for you, I can safely tell you that Mr Darcy did indeed propose to me in Kent and shocked me in more ways than one."

Jane was all ears, "Well _do_ tell..."

Elizabeth blushed slightly, "Well firstly, I had no idea that he found me...", and here she lowered the pitch of her voice, "_more than tolerable_... and secondly, he kissed me so violently when he proposed, that I almost fell over."

Jane was agog, "What did you do?"

Lizzy smiled, "I abused him most terribly."

* * *

The following day Jane resumed the conversation in the shrubbery. She had certainly been shocked by her sister's revelations, but not primarily for the reasons that Elizabeth had imagined. _Who would've thought that the stiff Mr Darcy could be so passionate? _Then she blushed when she realised the unfortunate double entendre of her thoughts...

"Lizzy you quite distracted me with your revelations last night."

"Dear Jane, I hope I have not shocked you too much."

"No, of course not, I can perfectly understand your abusing him after he was so forward, but there was more to my conversation with Mr Darcy."

Elizabeth looked at her sister intently.

"Mr Darcy thought you had told Mr Wickham of his rejected proposal."

"No Jane, I told no one. Why would he think I would do such a cruel thing?"

"Is it possible that you revealed it inadvertently? Did you not speak to Mr Wickham at least once after you returned from Kent?"

They continued walking along the path.

"I did speak to him once. I remember getting annoyed with him when he plied me with more folderol. I let him know that I was not deceived, and I defended Mr Darcy's character, but I said nothing of the proposal..."

She stopped and bit her lip as a tear came to her eye.

Jane looked on sympathetically. "Lizzy, are you alright?"

"Oh Jane!" she sighed, "I cannot bear to think that he is in the world and thinking ill of me."

* * *

The afternoon brought another surprise visitor to Longbourn.

Upon hearing the disturbing information that her nephew Darcy had been seen in the village of Meryton buying a bottle of champagne, Lady Catherine de Bourgh had set out from Kent with her daughter in tow to set matters right in Hertfordshire.

Kitty watched in awe as an amazing equippage drew up at the front door. It was the largest travelling coach she had ever seen, drawn by four horses, and accompanied by no less than five servants: the coachman, a postilion, two footmen and an outrider: all dressed in elaborate livery.

From this vehicle descended a dowager, richly dressed in a skirt with wide panniers. Kitty curtsied deeply and was duly ignored as the lady continued on into the house.

She sailed past Hill into the sitting room, where she encountered a startled Mrs Bennet, and imperiously demanded Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

While this lady was being summoned, she surveying her surroundings.

"You, I gather are Mrs Bennet," she stated.

That lady nodded rather nervously.

"This must be a most inconvenient sitting room for the evening, in summer; the windows are full west."

Mrs Bennet regained a little of her composure. "In summer, we do not sit here in the evening, my lady."

At this point Elizabeth arrived in the room.

"Lady Catherine, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Miss Bennet, there seemed to be a prettyish kind of a little wilderness on one side of your lawn. I should be glad to take a turn in it, if you will favour me with your company."

Jane arrived in the room shortly after they had departed and joined her mother at the window to view the spectacle. She watched in consternation. _Was Lady Catherine shaking her walking stick at Lizzy?_

Jane stepped out of the house and headed towards the wilderness.

Upon approaching the pair she heard Lady Catherine demand, "Tell me once and for all, are you engaged to him?"

And then, "Promise me you will never enter into such an engagement!"

Struck by the vehemence of Lady Catherine's tone, Jane's sidled up to Lizzy and clasped her hand.

Lizzy replied calmly, "I will make no such promise."

Lady Catherine was shocked by the unyielding and unladylike behaviour of Miss Bennet, and further disturbed by the arrival of reinforcements in the form of her sister.

With a stamp of her foot, she retreated to her carriage.


	36. To London, to London

Darcy was about to step out of his London townhouse, when his eyes flicked across the mail which had arrived in the foyer, and were arrested by a letter addressed to his sister in an unknown feminine hand. Picking it up, he examined it closely, and decided to deliver it to Georgiana himself. Finding her in her sitting room, he watched as she broke the seal.

"It is for you brother, from Jane Bennet," she said, holding out the inner sheet. Opening the folded page, his eyes scanned the missive.

_Dear Sir,_

_Forgive me for employing this deception to deliver this note._

_Our last conversation at L discomposed me, as my sister and I hold no secrets from each other. I applied to my sister for more information when she returned to L, and discovered she had kept your revelation from me to preserve my peace of mind, as it involved my dear C._

_She could recall that she spoke to Mr W once on her return from Kent. During that conversation she fears she might have annoyed him when she defended your character._

_She is very unhappy that you could think ill of her, and I beg that you relieve her mind._

_JB_

Darcy folded the letter and clenched his fist. _So Wickham, the canny fox, had just inferred a relationship on the basis of Miss Elizabeth's defence of his character. Oh, that he should have ever have doubted her! What should he do?_

He was drawn from his reverie by the harsh sound of his aunt's voice in the vestibule.

"Where is my nephew? I must see him at once!"

He heard the clack of her heels and cane approaching. Georgiana ran in the opposite direction and escaped the sitting room, just as the door opened on the opposite side.

Lady Catherine arrived and unleashed a diatribe encompassing grasping and impertinent females, arts and allurements, and the shades of Pemberley.

As her loud words finished echoing around the room, Darcy burst out laughing, grabbed his aunt in a bear hug, and planted a kiss upon her cheek.

"I'm so grateful that you look after me so well aunt."

Lady Catherine was sanguine, at least her nephew was paying proper attention to her! She decamped to the Earl's townhouse across the square after a stressful day. Her arrival had that gentleman, also, scurrying out a backdoor - well, as best as his gout permitted.

* * *

After politely seeing his aunt out the front door of his townhouse, Darcy thought fondly of Miss Elizabeth Bennet. She had never been intimidated by his aunt. _What a grand dame Elizabeth Bennet would make!_

Darcy flew up the stairs yelling for his valet. "Finn, I'm off to Hertfordshire! Pack a valise and follow me in the carriage, will you?"

And with that he grabbed his hat and coat, and headed to the stables.


	37. It takes two

Mr Bennet dismissed his favourite daughter, who seemed to have lost her sense of humour, from Longbourn library. Folding his arms as he stared out the window, he was further annoyed when he recognised the two horsemen coming up the drive. If it wasn't bad enough that his future son-in-law Mr Bingley was haunting the place, now his arrogant friend Mr Darcy had joined him, and after he had just finished ribbing Lizzy about Mr Collins' silly letter...

Having barely stepped upon the sitting room carpet. Mr Bingley announced his intention to go for a walk in the garden.

Whispering in his beloved's ear as they stepped out the door, Mr Bingley expressed a wish to explore the wilderness to the rest of the party and, much to Miss Kitty's surprise, secured her arm for the trip. Mary demurred, citing a wish to finish her book. So Jane claimed Kitty's other hand.

Mr Darcy offered Miss Elizabeth his arm, and then to her surprise, swung her around and headed off in the opposite direction.

Looking at him curiously, she grabbed the opportunity for a tête-à-tête.

"Mr Darcy, I recently discovered the extent of your help in aiding my sister Lydia. I have not communicated this to the rest of my family, but let me thank you from the bottom of my heart on their behalf."

"Miss Elizabeth, I must admit I had my own selfish reasons for contributing to the search."

They walked on for a few steps but he did not elaborate.

"I had a surprise visit from my aunt yesterday."

Elizabeth blanched.

"She was very solicitous of my heart, but I'm afraid it is too late."

She looked at him in surprise.

"Miss Bennet, I asked you a question in Kent, would it be presumptuous of me to ask it again?"

She blushed, looked down, and then back up into his eyes, giving a little shake of her head.

Upon reaching the rose garden, he turned, and having extracted one little hand from his arm, captured the other.

"My parents were good people and taught me well, but I have strayed off the path since their deaths. My time in London searching for a wife especially tainted me. With women falling over themselves to gain my attention, I came to view myself as quite a prize. But they were not interested in me, Fitzwilliam Darcy. They wanted to marry the Master of Pemberley, whoever that is."

She gave a wry smile.

"But you were entirely without artifice. Your beauty and wit entranced me. Your goodness was demonstrated when you visited your sick sister. Your nobility apparent when you righteously rejected my first offer."

He got down on one knee.

"By you I have been properly humbled. Please consent to be my wife."

Miss Bennet started crying softly. "Oh Fitzwilliam, you are such a good man, and I am not half as good as you have painted. I have said some harsh and unjust things to you. But let me say yes, and then I can spend the rest of my life apologising," she smiled.

And with that she pulled him to his feet, casting a rueful glance at the dirty knee of his breeches. She attempted to place a peck on his cheek, but he would not be satisfied with that, and pulled her into an embrace.

Mrs Bennet was watching from the sitting room window of Longbourn with satisfaction, when Mary arrived with her tea.

"Mother, he is embracing her!"

"Of course, Mary."

"Should they not be stopped..."

"Don't be ridiculous, Mary, he got down on his knee first."

* * *

Over the next few days many circuits of Longbourn's gardens were performed by the lovebirds. When Elizabeth's spirits rose to playfulness again, she teased Mr Darcy to account for his having ever fallen in love with her. "How could you begin?" said she. "I can comprehend your going on charmingly, once you made a beginning; but what could have set you off in the first place?"

He replied that he could not fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It was too long ago. "I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun." But upon further interrogation, he sheepishly admitted it was her shapely calves that had first unhinged him.


	38. Double rainbow

The banns had already been read once in Longbourn parish for Bingley and Jane's wedding, which they had decided to hold on the significant date of the 26th of November, one year after the Netherfield ball. Bingley had asked Darcy to stand up with him. Despite Mrs Bennet's wish for Darcy and Elizabeth to be married by special license, there was still plenty of time for them to have the banns read in the parish and join Jane and Bingley at the altar. Georgiana and Kitty were to be bridesmaids. Mary declined to be involved in the fuss, she preferred to watch the ceremony from a pew.

The invitations were sent out and were met with almost universal acceptance. A few invitees sent their regrets. Caroline was ill, and Louisa deemed it best to remain in Scarborough to nurse her. Hurst also sent his apologies. He was busy shooting, drinking, playing cards, eating ragout, _or something_... but offered his townhouse for Bingley's honeymoon. Ensign Wickham and Lydia were also unable to make it. He had recently been seconded for an important secret mission... Lady Catherine de Bourgh declined and cut off all contact with her nephew... until the following Easter, when she conveniently forgot his indiscretion before his annual review of the Rosings estate.

Jane and Elizabeth were invited to London by Mrs Gardiner to purchase their wedding clothes. After learning of the projected expedition, Georgiana invited the sisters to stay as her guests at the Darcy townhouse. The invitation was then extended to Kitty to allow Georgiana to match their dresses. Mrs Bennet was fortunately preoccupied with the organisation of the greatest wedding breakfast Longbourn parish had ever witnessed. On the departure of her daughters from Longbourn, she adjured the girls to ensure there was sufficient lace on the dresses, because they were "not marrying paupers." This advice was conveniently forgotten once outside the front gates.

The trip from Longbourn to London had never been shorter. The three sisters spent the journey exclaiming over the luxuries of the Darcy carriage: The smoothness of the ride, the glass of the windows which effectively excluded the dust from the road, the comfortable upholstery and the hidden compartments it concealed. Kitty lay down on the backward-facing seat and pretended to go to sleep, causing her sisters to titter.

On reaching the townhouse, Georgiana rushed out to meet them and they were treated to an afternoon tea with French pastries. They were then regaled with a tour of the house. The Bennets were suitably awed by the magnificent library, exclaimed over Georgiana's beautiful pianoforte, and were astonished by the size of her bed chamber. Georgiana had invited Kitty to share her magnificent bedroom decorated in powder-blue silk. Elizabeth declared that there was sufficient room for them all to camp inside using the bed hangings as a tent. She continued to embroider the joke when two further doors were open to reveal a huge dressing room with a large copper bath tub, and a sitting room. Elizabeth and Jane were shown to a slightly smaller guest room next door decorated in pink.

After dinner, Kitty and Jane sat down to examine a large pile of fashion magazines. Georgiana spirited Elizabeth off, ostensibly to choose a book from the library. After handing her Lord Byron's latest volume of verse, Georgiana pulled Elizabeth up the stairs.

Her brother had requested that she show Elizabeth the Mistress's chambers, so they could be redecorated to her taste. Elizabeth was gobsmacked at the elegance of these rooms and rather intimidated at the prospect of altering them.

"I would not know where to start Georgiana," she said examining the celadon green wallpaper decorated with birds in a chinoiserie style. "they seem beautiful as they are!"

"My brother thought you might like something more cheerful, like yellow?"

Georgiana pulled her into the next room which was an elegant sitting room. "You have the settee in front of the fireplace in your bedchamber, but this sitting room is shared with my brother. And this," she said, opening another door, and pulling her through, "is my brothers room!"

Stepping under the lintel, Elizabeth was overcome by the beautiful musky scent that filled the room, and felt weak at the knees. She gulped and clutched the volume of poetry. The room was a paragon of understated masculine elegance.

"Thank you for showing me, Georgiana. You have make me feel at home. But let us hasten back to the others. Choosing the wedding clothes is about as much decision-making as I can cope with at the moment!"

Georgiana gave her hand a squeeze and they skittered back down the stairs to the sitting room.

* * *

They made a merry party on the day they selected the styles and materials for the ceremony. The dresses were to be made from the same bolt of ivory silk, chosen from Mr Gardiner's warehouse. This was delivered to Mrs Gardiner's seamstress, along with a multitude of ribbons and other accessories. The brides chose slightly different styles, as best suited their figures. A suitably girlish style was chosen for the bridesmaids' dresses.

The brides also decided to wear matching long net veils. When Mrs Gardiner joked that she hoped the bridegrooms would not mix them up at the altar, Georgiana made the happy suggestion of embroidering the veils with a flower of their choice. Lizzy chose yellow daisies and Jane, red roses. Kitty thought the attendants should match the brides, and so coloured silk sashes were to be sewn for the bridesmaids: red for Kitty and yellow for Georgiana.

Then the ladies discussed how the grooms could be coordinated. After coloured waistcoats or cravats were suggested with a few giggles, they decided their fiancés would not look too much like dandies with matching kerchiefs made from the same material as the bridesmaids' sashes.

Georgiana suggested they finish their shopping trip with afternoon tea at Gunter's: a special treat for Kitty who had never tried an ice before.

On the following day Mrs Annersley accompanied Georgiana and Kitty to select their gloves and shoes, while the elder Bennets went off with Mrs Gardiner to choose more intimate apparel.

* * *

Two weeks later Mrs Gardiner arrived at Longbourn with her nieces' trousseau. When the gowns were donned for the final fittings, Mrs Bennet was aghast at the lack of embellishment, but was happily distracted when Mrs Gardiner presented her with a box containing an elaborate bonnet for her to wear at the wedding.

The Collins arrived a few days before the ceremony to stay with the Lucases. Charlotte had volunteered to decorate the church in deference to her best friend, to whom she owed her own marital felicity. On his part, Mr Collins volunteered some helpful advice for the marriage ceremony to the vicar of Longbourn Parish, which earned him a kick under the table from his wife.

* * *

On a crisp but clear day, Mr Bennet walked down the aisle with his most beautiful daughter on his right arm and his most intelligent daughter on his left, ruefully thinking that dinnertime conversations would be forevermore bereft of grace and wit.

The entire village of Meryton seemed to have squeezed itself inside the church. The vicar could only ruefully wish that Sunday services were so well attended.

The couples made their responses with grace. Darcy was briefly distracted by thoughts of his last discussion on the Book of Common Prayer with Richard, but only the vicar saw him blush. It was Bingley's turn when he got to "with my body I thee worship."

After the ceremony, the happy couples piled into a landau which had been hired for the occasion. Charlotte had also decorated this vehicle with ribbons and flowers. Darcy and Elizabeth sat on the forward facing seats, and Jane and Bingley sat opposite.

The bridesmaids sat on either side of Mr Bennet in his gig. As he was about to start the vehicle, he explained there was a special reason that it was called a gig. With the assistance of his equine conspirator, he then proceeded to stop and start the vehicle jerkily all the way to Longbourn, throwing the girls back against the seat, and producing a giggle everytime. Upon descending at Longbourn, Georgiana discovered she had hiccups, but Kitty was made of sterner stuff: she could giggle all day without ill consequences.

The remaining family members and the Collins climbed into the Bennet carriage, while the rest of the guests set off to walk the short distance to Longbourn. The villagers milled about for some time discussing the spectacle, before gradually departing, each according to the urgency of his vocation.

Mrs Bennet exceeded herself with the wedding breakfast. Sir William Lucas declared it the best cold collation he had ever seen, and no one cared to argue with him. The champagne punch was also acknowledged par excellence, especially by Mr Collins who fell down the back steps while under the influence. No bones were broken.

At last came the time for the couples to depart: Jane and Bingley to London; and Elizabeth and Darcy to Pemberley. The Bingleys stepped into the hired landau for the twenty mile trip to London, laughing as they were pelted with rice. Lizzy hugged her father a tearful goodbye, before turning to her husband to accept his assistance into the Darcy carriage. It was at this time, that all the ladies present realised just how handsome Fitzwilliam Darcy was, when his face lit up in a beautiful smile and he finally displayed his two dimples.


	39. A frustrating journey

By midday Darcy and Elizabeth finally managed to extract themselves from their well wishers, and Darcy handed Elizabeth into the travelling carriage for the long journey to Pemberley. Four fresh horses had been harnessed, and the post boy sat on the left leader, eager to be off.

"Well, Mr Darcy," Mr Bennet teased, "In a hurry? Four horses should get you to Pemberley quickly enough."

Darcy blushed despite the fact he routinely travelled long distance with four horses. Mr Bennet's jab was not wide of the mark: he had in fact considered six horses for this journey. In the end he had restrained himself, deciding to make the trip in easy stages and enjoy the journey as part of his honeymoon.

He shook Mr Bennet's hand. "Goodbye sir, I hope to see you again before Easter."

He climbed in to join Elizabeth and sat on the backward-facing seat as they pulled away. She had removed her bonnet, and he watched her face as she waved to her family. He saw tears not far away as she gazed at them, but once they passed through the gates, she turned towards him and smiled.

They headed directly for Dunstable, passing through Hockcliffe, before taking the road to Woburn where they changed horses. A boy ran out with ale for Darcy and the coachman, and lemonade was procured for Mrs Darcy. The change was executed quickly enough and Darcy stepped back into the carriage, using the opportunity to reseat himself beside his bride.

He clasped her gloved hand. "Did you come this way with your aunt and uncle on your Northern tour?"

"Well it would have been sensible, but we went via Meryton to execute a commission for my mother. One then has to go through Luton to reach Dunstable. I believe it adds an extra 5 miles to the journey."

"Your father and mother are such an unlikely pair. How did they meet?"

"My father did not expect to inherit Longbourn. He was a fellow in classics at Oxford, and the second son. The estate was entailed upon his brother, who died unexpectedly shortly after coming into his inheritance, and before he was installed there. My uncle had no male heir at the time, so my father inherited Longbourn at 40, and was obliged to marry. My mother was the local beauty. She had just come out following the marriage of my Aunt Phillips. There you have it - the complete love story."

"If your father had not inherited Longbourn, he might have taught classics to Bingley.."

"Indeed? I have never heard Mr Bingley speak of the classics..."

"Too true. He was probably asleep during his lectures, which sadly diminishes any novelty to be had from an imaginary encounter."

The carriage swayed on for some minutes.

"I wonder if your mother looked like Jane when she was young," mused Darcy.

"I believe Jane combines the best features of both my mother and father. Uncle Gardiner says my mother looked like a fair version of myself."

"Then she must have indeed been very beautiful," smiled Darcy.

* * *

By the time they passed through Wavendon, Darcy was absent-mindedly stroking and petting his wife's hand as he stared out the window. This was having a rather disturbing effect on her equanimity. After passing through Broughton, she snatched her hand away and caught his large hand between her small ones. She then proceeded to inflict the same torture on him until they finally they crossed the river Ouse. Darcy was greatly enjoying her ministrations.

Having arrived at Newport Pagnell, they stopped at The Angel where they intended to spend the night. As they pulled into the yard, Darcy was pleased to see his valet, Finn, and his sister, who had won the post as Elizabeth's new maid, come out to direct unloading of the baggage. After loading the travelling carriage at Netherfield early in the morning, the siblings had been dropped in Meryton by the coachman who continued to Longbourn, They had proceeded from Meryton by post chaise.

Having made good time to The Angel from Longbourn, after rinsing the dust from their faces, Darcy and Elizabeth chose to stroll along the riverbank before supper.

Upon returning to the inn, they made their way to the private parlour. A light repast had been set out for them, but they ate little having taken more than their fill at the wedding breakfast on the insistence of Mrs Bennet. Nonetheless, Darcy had ordered a bottle of champagne, despite having earlier imbibed a significant quantity of Mrs Bennet's champagne punch.

"Haven't we had enough of this today, Mr Darcy?" asked Elizabeth.

"Have you tried it in its undiluted form, Mrs Darcy?" he replied.

"I must admit I have not. What unusual glasses!" she said upon seeing the flutes which Finn had transported especially for the occasion.

"They are made especially for champagne, being thinner than normal wine glasses to retain the bubbles."

Elizabeth lifted the glass to her mouth and promptly sneezed. "Obviously there is a trick to drinking champagne. It tickled my nose!"

Thus they polished off the bottle interspersed with morsels of food in front of the fire.

"Shall we retire Mrs Darcy?" he asked, assisting Elizabeth to her feet.

Darcy had booked separate chambers for them during the journey as he had no wish to impose upon his new wife for the first time in an inn. Indeed, he was quite fastidious and the Darcys always travelled with their own sheets. Elizabeth knew they had separate chambers, but was not entirely sure what this would entail.

Upon escorting her to her room, he bent to whisper in her ear, "May I come inside to kiss you good night, my dear?"

She smiled nervously.

No sooner had the latch clicked shut, Darcy had clasped her in his arms and kissed her until she thought she might turn blue in the face.

Upon feeling her sway he drew back slightly, and was nonplussed to find that her unsteadiness had more to do with lack of breath than passion.

"Are you alright, my dear?"

"Yes sir. I see I need to learn the knack of breathing and kissing at the same time."

He restrained himself and pecked her on the forehead. "Good night, Mrs Darcy. Sleep well."

Elizabeth was more than relieved to have delayed the inevitable when she reached for the bell to call Mona. But having snuffed the candle and laid her head upon the pillow, she felt strangely bereft without his presence.


	40. With my body

On the following day they were up at dawn, and after a cup of cocoa, set off early to continue their journey.

Had Elizabeth been mercenary, no doubt her thoughts upon arriving at Pemberley would have been ones of triumph. But when they alighted in front of the grand house with the servants lined up to meet her, her mind was principally occupied with the thought that in that house was a bed where her husband would shortly initiate her into her conjugal duties. The thought simultaneously frightened and excited her.

They ate little for dinner, spending the meal talking of inconsequential things while stealing glances at one another.

Once the dessert had been cleared away, he escorted her to the door of his bedchamber, before carrying her over the threshold.

Her knees buckled when he kissed her, and Darcy grabbed her to stop her falling.

"Are you well my dear?" he asked.

"Yes, quite well," she replied, swaying slightly. "You overwhelmed me."

He kissed her again and felt her collapse in his arms.

She laughed nervously. "Something strange seems to have happened to my knees."

Pulling her upright, he sat her on the end of the bed and kissed the end of her nose. Then kneeling at her feet he removed her shoes, and rolling back onto his haunches, placed her stockinged feet upon his thighs. Folding her skirts upwards, he bent down to kiss her knees; then pushing her petticoat slightly higher, he untied her garters, rolled her stockings down and slipped them off her dainty feet. Returning to kneel, he placed her feet back on the floor, and shuffling forward between her knees, he undid her spencer as she watched in fascination. Despite his large fingers, he managed the buttons quite deftly. She returned her gaze to his face. His eyes seemed to burn with an inner fire.

"Turn round, Mrs Darcy," he said in a low voice.

Pushing herself backwards on the counterpane, Elizabeth turned and knelt on the bed, feeling rather vulnerable. What did he intend?

He stood, and after undoing the buttons at the back, slid her dress down her arms to reveal her naked shoulders. Breathing heavily, he kissed and bit the back of her neck playfully.

"Fitzwilliam, Stop!"

"Stop?... really?" he asked, drawing back an inch, but continuing to pant hot air across the back of her neck.

"Yes! _giggle_. No! .._squeak_..I feel I am being attacked by a wolf!" she exclaimed.

"Not so far from the mark," he whispered.

Pulling her backwards into a standing position, he pushed her gown down over her hips, letting it pool round her feet. He then proceeded to ogle her décolletage over her shoulders as he threaded his hands under her armpits to grasp one breast in each palm over her stays. Much groping occurred as he licked her ear lobes. It occurred to him that his instinctive wishes to taste them at Netherfield had been sound.

Kissing the top of her head, he released her momentarily as he puzzled over her short stays before beginning to unlace them at the back.

_Good Lord_, he thought, _it's like unwrapping a gift!_

He then proceeded to pull the pins from her hair and let the chestnut locks spill over her shoulders before burying his nose in her tresses and inhaling deeply.

Now she was down to her petticoat and chemise and he could hear the blood pumping through his ears. Still encircled in his arms, he reached for the waistband of her petticoat.

She slapped his hand and twisted round in his arms.

He raised his eyebrows.

"Mr Darcy, could I assist you with your waistcoat?" she smiled coquettishly.

Now Darcy blushed. He hadn't envisaged this.

_But why should I be surprised? _he wondered.

She removed his waistcoat and his cravat, touching his Adam's apple lightly with her fingers. then she ran her palms along the planes of his neck.

Darcy imagined he was looking as self-satisfied as a stroked cat.

"Mrs Darcy could you assist me with my boots?"

After pulling off the first one, she remembered a game she played with her father. Turning her back to him, she straddled his leg. He laughed and pushed her bottom with his foot.

When he hitched up his shirt and began fiddling with his breeches, Elizabeth became flustered. _Oh my, which way should I look?_

Laying her head back on the mattress, she saw a flurry of white in her peripheral vision as he pulled his shirt over his head, and the most delicious smell assaulted her senses: it was better than baked bread, fresh coffee, newly mown grass, but different to all of them. She drew close to his chest and inhaled. _Oh, heaven!_

Darcy took her in his arms and kissed her again, pushing her further back onto the bed. She looked down her body in amazement as a large tanned hand clasped her white breast. Then he was on top of her and swivelling her around in the bed.

The touch and warmth of his skin along her body felt exquisite.

They kissed and fondled each other, unaware of the passage of time, til Darcy suddenly felt the urge to be closer still, and drawing back attempted to introduce himself into her.

Sensing his hesitation, she did what she could to assist him, realising he was just as uninitiated in this process as she was.

All fumbling was quickly forgotten with the incandescence of the new sensations.

Closer and closer they moved together until he froze, gulping air, trying to catch his breath.

"Darcy?" she asked, wondering at the source of his distress.

"Shhh," he soothed with closed eyelids.

Finally he seemed to recover himself.

He then began making the most ungodly sounds as he pounded against her.

At some point she realised some of the ungodly sounds were coming from herself.

Finally, he collapsed on top of her, his skin slick with sweat.

"Fitzwilliam!" she whispered.

"Yes, my love?" he panted.

"I can't breathe!" she gasped.

"Sorry!" he panted, rolling to the side.

After regulating his breathing, he cuddled up behind her and kissed her neck, "I love you, Lizzy."

He blew out the candle and snuggled next to her. "Goodnight, Mrs Darcy."

"Goodnight husband."

His last thoughts as he contentedly drifted off to sleep was that at last some of those bizarre urges he had felt in Elizabeth's presence finally made sense.


	41. Dawn

**Last edit 26/7/16**

As the suns rays peeked into the windows of Pemberley, Elizabeth's eyelids fluttered open and she stretched languorously. Lying back on the pillow, she observed her husband in the full light of day. He was on his side with his torso twisted slightly toward the ceiling. Having immodestly flung off the sheets, he was lying there with not a stitch on. Greek statuary did not lie; he was beautiful. Her eyes wandered down his hairy, well-muscled thighs, over his perfect knees, past his shapely calves to his beautiful, but _rather large_, feet. She suppressed a giggle. _Rather more the size of snowshoes than of Greek statuary_. But their form was perfect, right down to his tippy toes. Returning to his torso, she skipped over that piece of anatomy often obscured by an fig leaf, or chiselled off altogether. She didn't consider herself missish, but _that_ was going to take a bit of getting used to. His chest swelled from his narrow hips to his broad shoulders. He had significantly less hair on his upper body, but was still much furrier than herself. Her eyes rested on his large rounded biceps, before sliding back to his chest. _Such tiny brown nipples, and goodness, men really did have those distinct muscles below their breasts!_ In repose he looked so much younger. His strong chin with its central dimple, jutted out from a graceful but muscular neck, which was normally hidden by his cravat. She watched in fascination as his Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed. His beautiful black locks were adorably tusselled.

At that point he rolled completely onto his side, presenting his broad back. _Looks like he wants to sleep a little more, _she thought. She was peckish, but she could ignore it. She snuggled up to the warmth of his back and fell back to sleep.

Half an hour later Darcy awoke, to find the fulfilment of his dreams lying naked in bed beside him, with a sheet draped loosely over her hips. Her chestnut tresses fell to her waist and were draped over the pillow. After spending several minutes watching her breathe, he grew bold and twitched the sheet off her bottom. It was a perfect peach, even covered with a fuzz of tiny blonde hairs. He wanted nothing more than to kiss it, but he refrained lest he wake her. He did not want to give up the golden opportunity of observing her as she slept. Carefully rising from the mattress, he walked around the bed and knelt at the other side. Her breasts were two small melons topped with raspberries. They looked impossibly soft. _No! _he remembered, they _were_ impossibly soft, but again he resisted the urge to touch, lest he wake her.

Standing, he padded naked to the dressing room, used the commode, and rinsed his nether regions with the ewer of water and bowl that had been placed there. As he performed his ablutions, his thoughts ran to the previous night. _Bliss_. Well, if Richard had been a fly on the wall, no doubt he would have been amused. He was sure his earlier efforts must have been clumsy, but his unbridled passion had not permitted him to notice. He had woken twice during the night, and finding her responsive, made love again. Both times it had been so much easier, and he was sure there was yet a world to explore.

Returning to her bedside, he stroked her cheek. When her eyes opened, he gave her a tender kiss. "Good morning, Mrs Darcy. Are you hungry?"

"Indeed husband, I could eat a horse," she smiled.

He reached over to pull the bell, the signal he had arranged with Mrs Reynolds to bring up breakfast, whereupon she noticed what he was _not_ wearing. "Mr Darcy, you're as naked as Adam," she said in mock shock.

"Mrs Darcy, you are similarly attired."

At this point she glanced around for the clothes which had been discarded the night before,"My clothes seem to have disappeared, sir."

"Indeed I may have assisted them. No clothes are needed on a honeymoon, Mrs Darcy."

Her courage rose, and jumping up, she scampered off to her chambers, prompting Darcy to think again of wood nymphs.

Upon finishing her toilette, Elizabeth re-entered his bedchamber wearing a diaphanous wrap that left little to the imagination. Nonetheless it fulfilled her notions of propriety. Taking a running leap, she landed on the bed with a bounce, knocking the headboard against the wall. Darcy's face broke into a wide grin, remembering some similar knocks that had occurred during the night. He grabbed her and they frolicked for a while.

Coming up the stairs with the breakfast tray, Mrs Reynolds heard the thump and the giggling. She hadn't heard the master make a sound like that since he'd got up to hijinks with his cousin Richard as a youth...

She was glad she'd banned all the servants from the family wing for the duration of the honeymoon. Darcy's valet had at first been indignant, but upon reflection, had been happy to take two weeks off to visit his mother in Ireland. _Best to give them some privacy._

Placing the tray on a table outside the master's bedroom door, Mrs Reynolds rang a hand bell placed there and descended the stairs again.

* * *

During breakfast, Darcy noticed his wife seemed to become more pensive. "A penny for your thoughts," he said, squeezing her hand.

"I was just reminiscing about something I said to my aunt when I first saw Pemberley."

"And what was that?"

She looked at him round-eyed. "That I hadn't expected it to be so... big."

They both fell about laughing.


	42. Epilogue

_******two new chapters have been inserted at chapters 39 and 40*****_

Two weeks after the happy couple reached Pemberley, Georgiana and Mrs Annersley arrived from London to take up residence for the winter. Darcy descended the front steps to assist the ladies from the coach. After the footman had flipped down the step, Georgiana stepped down in a beautiful fur-lined cloak and hugged her new sister-in-law.

"Georgiana, it is so good to see you," said Elizabeth, "and what a beautiful cloak! I am quite envious."

"Is it not lovely? Brother gave it to me last Christmas. It is lined with ermine." She stood there stamping her feet after the long journey, while Darcy handed Mrs Annersley down.

They all quickly entered the house to escape the cold, followed by the footmen who had been removing the luggage from the boot. Once inside, Mrs Reynolds brought mulled cider to warm and welcome them home.

"Well sister, have you seen all of Pemberley, yet?" asked Georgiana.

Elizabeth laughed. "Indeed no, the weather has been quite atrocious! So we have been stuck indoors," she said, giving Darcy a knowing smile.

Darcy turned to hide his blush.

"Well, at least you've had a chance to explore the house!" said Georgiana.

Darcy's blush deepened. They had been no further than his own chambers.

"Well, there's just so much of it!" temporised Elizabeth. "And men have no patience for household details... I was hoping you would give me a personal tour, once you've had a chance to rest from your journey."

They headed off to the family wing, with Georgiana leading the way.

Darcy bent down to breathe at his wife's neck. "You are a skilled prevaricator, Mrs Darcy."

"Just as well someone is, Mr Darcy," she whispered back.

* * *

A week later Jane, Charles and the Gardiners arrived. The Bingleys intended to stay for a month over Christmas, before departing to visit his relatives in Scarborough. Now that he was a married man, Charles had purchased his own travelling carriage, which had been delivered while they stayed at Hurst's townhouse. It was painted a beautiful deep blue, a colour he claimed matched his wife's lovely eyes. The Gardiners had joined them at Longbourn, after leaving their children in the charge of Kitty and Mary.

Jane was quite gobsmacked when Pemberley came into view. "My goodness, it's a palace!" she exclaimed.

"Is it not beautiful?" said Mrs Gardiner. "Although I believe your sister's words upon first seeing it were 'what a pile!' "

Jane was shocked. "I cannot believe she was so ungracious."

"To her credit," said Mr Gardiner with a smile, "she did subsequently add that 'it is everything that is lovely'."

"Indeed, my love, I will build you one just like it," said Charles.

* * *

The sisters finally had a chance to meet alone the following day in Lizzy's sitting room. The Gardiners were on the second tour of the house Georgiana had given in a week, this time incorporating parts of the house the couple had not seen on their tour of the public rooms in the summer. Charles had joined Darcy in his study on estate business.

"Well Jane, what say you of married life?" Lizzy smiled as she drew back the curtains.

"Oh Lizzy, it is everything that is wonderful! Charles and I have been to the theatre and shopping together. He is the most amiable man. I am surely blessed!"

"Just the theatre and shopping! Well, he _is_ an amiable man!"

Jane blushed. "Oh Lizzy, I am so relieved. It is nothing like mama said! He is so loving and gentle. And you Lizzy?"

Lizzy beamed, "Well, he is definitely loving..."

* * *

Georgiana was excited when Richard wrote he would stay for a couple of days on his way from Newcastle to London. Richard often volunteered to ride from London to Newcastle with important communiqués. It allowed him to visit his mother. It had also allowed him to check up on Wickham following the marriage of Mrs Darcy's sister.

Having stayed overnight at Matlock, Richard arrived at Pemberley shortly before lunch. Surrendering his coat to a footman at the door, Richard made his way through the house without ceremony to Georgiana's sitting room, summoned by the sound of the pianoforte. The ladies exclaimed when he walked through the door and Georgiana jumped up to greet him.

After they had finished tea, Bingley entered, and shook Richard's hand. "If you're looking for Darcy, he was about to head for the stables when I left him a moment ago."

"Thank you," said Richard with a sardonic grin, "As I've only ridden 10 miles today, I could do with a bit more exercise."

As Richard headed towards the back door, he saw Darcy striding through the hallway some distance in front of him. He was about to yell out to him when he realised Darcy was whistling and restrained himself to listen. He was then astonished to see Darcy jump up and touch the chandelier in the rear vestibule, before bounding down the back steps. _Well, well, Mrs Darcy, your husband **is** in a good mood._

Upon reaching the threshold, he bellowed in his best drill sergeant voice "Darcy, wait up!"

"Richard!" he said, turning and flashing a brilliant smile. "Care to join me for a gallop?"

"Absolutely, old boy!" _And I'll do my damned best to pump you for information._

* * *

Richard was not entirely successful in getting the information he sought. While Darcy was hopeless at obfuscation, he did do a very good line in silence. Nonetheless Richard managed to extract a satisfactory number of blushes and smiles from his cousin.

When the ladies withdrew after dinner, Richard saw another opportunity and poured out the brandy. But both the bridegrooms was silent as nuns, and so it was left to him to provide the entertainment.

"Well I must tell you the latest _on dit _in Newcastle. Wickham got caught with his pants down: took a tilt at the widow Kelly. She's very well to do, and likes to entertain the officers. Mrs Wickham smoked him; turned up at the front door of Mrs Kelly's townhouse with his musket; marched in, straight past the butler and a footman; fired a shot through the roof in the bedroom, then chased Wickham naked through the house. Apparently, she managed to tan his backside with a cast iron frypan before he escaped through the back door sans essential parts of his uniform."

Darcy was annoyed at Richard spreading salacious gossip about a relative. "What is the moral of this story?"

Richard didn't miss a beat, "Never underestimate a Bennet sister."

Darcy pondered this, then he smiled. All these years, Wickham had got the better of him. After Brighton, Darcy had viewed Lydia as a victim, but she had been Wickham's comeuppance.

He lifted his glass in a toast, "To the Bennet ladies."

FINIS


End file.
